


Masquerade

by orphicsheep



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballroom Dancing, Blumentrio Mentions, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Empire Siblings - Freeform, Expositor! Beau, False Identity, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Romance, Shadowgast, Some Beaujester, Spies & Secret Agents, Vollstrecker! Caleb, idiot wizards catch feelings, magical spies who are terrible at their job fall in love AU no one asked for, they are thirsty touch-starved fools who flirt with magic I don't know what else to tell you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphicsheep/pseuds/orphicsheep
Summary: Vollstrecker Caleb is sent to infiltrate the Dynasty's Royal Court with the help of Expositors Beauregard and Dairon, accidentally falls in love with an enemy spy.





	1. I'm Following a Lead

**Author's Note:**

> In this timeline, the M9 never formed, and war has not yet broken out between the Empire and Dynasty. Beau became an Expositor and is working with Dairon. Caleb recently became a Vollstrecker. Trent Ikithon kept Caleb in the dark, so he never learned the entire truth about his family. Astrid and Eodwulf broke instead of him. He's been sent to Rosohna to learn all he can about dunamancy. Jester is travelling the world with her bodyguard, Fjord, and passing through Rosohna. Molly and Yasha never left the circus. Other major characters will make cameo appearances. They're all alive and well. Tags/rating may change.
> 
> Now that's out of the way, I have absolutely no idea what this is! I just had a rough idea and ran with it. Enjoy!

Joining the Cerberus Assembly was an honour afforded to few. It was not enough to graduate the Soltryce Academy with top marks. You had to complete a series of assignments for the Assembly to prove you deserved to join their ranks. As he was not yet a full-fledged _Vollstrecker,_ these assignments would be monitored by handlers. Since this was his first _major_ assignment for the Assembly, he was not sent alone, but for the sake of appearances, it had to seem as though he was. That meant travelling alone. He started out on horseback, until he made it to Asarius, where he traded in his horse for a company of mercenaries, who escorted him the rest of the way to Rosohna. Having never left the Empire before, he was unprepared to combat whatever dangers stalked the wastelands of Xhorhas.

He arrived in Roshona in the guise of an ambassador sent by the Empire to negotiate with the Bright Queen and learn more of their culture, with the aim of maintaining ‘peaceful relations’ between their two kingdoms. Relations were far from peaceful, but they had managed to avoid outright war. The Empire _could _have probably sent a_ real_ ambassador, but they decided it would be too dangerous, given the Dynasty's strict orders that anyone sent to speak for them must come alone and unarmed. They never said they couldn't be a spellcaster.

He was given rooms in the Lucid Bastion, so close to the Queen, and so close to her advisors, as a sign of trust. But it was a trust which could easily be broken. Two Expositors were also stationed in the Bastion with him: Dairon and Beauregard. They were both disguised as drow and working as servants. He had already made contact with Beauregard—they had worked together in the past—but he only knew Dairon by reputation. Dairon would be delivering messages from and to the Assembly, and monitoring him. They had a lot on the line, if they wanted to gain Dynasty secrets without starting a war.

Caleb arrived two days before the autumn equinox, when a festival was being held throughout Rosohna to celebrate the Luxon. This celebration took many forms, Caleb learned, as the Skysybil Mirimm continued to talk his ear off, but it always began with a masquerade ball. Nobles were the same the world over; any excuse to dress up and have a banquet. Caleb had heard about such events taking place in the Empire, but he had never been to one. He had always been on the outside looking in. He only knew how to dance because Astrid and Eodwulf had taught him, to kill time in the countryside when they got tired of training. He had no idea what to do at an actual ball, so of course he turned to Beauregard for help, because... he was too afraid to go to Darion.

“It's just a party like any other. Drink, eat, smile, dance, go home. What's there to get?” Beauregard asked, arms crossed, trying to get her head around Caleb's blatant distress.

“To start... I don't know what to wear,” he admitted, looking down at his clothes, which had been tailor-made for him by the Assembly, so he would look the part of a visiting diplomat. He hated them. They were too stiff and formal. He was used to wearing robes.

“Give me your measurements, I have a friend who can take them to a tailor in town, have something made special. Are you wearing a mask?”

He figured Beau would have already made local contacts by now. She and Dairon had arrived a few weeks before Caleb. He was grateful they did, because that meant they had already compiled plenty of notes on the local culture and nobility, and Beau had time to get to know the layout of the city and make contacts. She was good at making contacts everywhere she went. Maybe it was because, as an Expositor, she was always moving from one place to the next. She had to work fast.

“It’s a masquerade, I don't think the mask is optional,” he pointed out, before dialing back for clarity. “Tell me more about this ‘friend’ of yours. How do you know they can be trusted? You’ve only been here a few weeks.”

“I don't waste time,” she replied with a wink. “Anyway, this one's in the money, a real lady, wears these elegant dresses... but she's not a local, just passing through, and doesn't care about politics. I met her in a tavern in the Gallimaufry. She was 'slumming,' you know? Wanted to see ‘the real Rosohna,’ and I offered her a tour, free of charge. We only had a couple of drinks before she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me in the Solarium!”

“She kissed you_ where?”_

“In the Solarium! They were all busy praying to Luxon, getting sunstroke, blood running from their eyes... I can't think why they put themselves through it... and while they were busy being holy, we snuck off and got cozy with a bottle of rum and had a lovely time. Her name's Jester Lavorre. She's from Nicodranas.” Of course she had a girl in every port; she had contacts all over Exandria.

“Not human, I take it?”

“No, she's... she's blue.”

“I should have guessed! Your favourite colour.”

“A blue tiefling, can't miss her! One of a kind! Crazy pretty! She'll be at this party, too. You could even go together, maybe? That way you won't look completely out of place.”

He knew she was just trying to be helpful, but he was not sure taking a date on what was essentially a reconnaissance mission would be a good idea.

“You sure you won't get jealous...?” He asked with a wry, teasing smile. “Seeing as you’re such good friends.”

“We're not exclusive, it's just... fun, you know?” A pause, as she fixed Caleb with a scrutinizing look. “You know what 'fun' is, right? I doubt they teach you about that in the Assembly. Never met a Scourger with a sense of humour.”

He winced a little at the word. He was not, technically, a Scourger yet. And anyway, they were called_ 'Vollstrecker.'_ Maybe if this job went well, he could become a _Vollstrecker. _What constituted a ‘successful mission’ was anyone’s guess. All he knew was that he was supposed to gather information, learn all he could about the Kryn Dynasty's weapons, religion, and the strange new school of magic they alone seemed to practice. He presumed there would be more orders to come, the longer he stayed there, but... he had no idea why the Assembly wanted this information, or what they planned to do with it.

“We have fun. I have fun. Tell this... Miss Lavorre of yours that I would welcome her help,” he said, jotting down his measurements on a scrap of parchment, then handing them over to Beauregard.

“Got it! You can count on me. You'll be the best dressed human there,” she said with a broad smile, then made to leave. Before she could, Caleb reached out, tentatively, stopped her arm. She spun round on her heel to face him.

“Thank you, Miss Lionett,” he said, sincerely, with feeling. He had been struggling to make contacts in Rosohna, but he did not want to admit just how out of his depths he felt here. Nothing in his training had prepared him for playing the part of an ambassador in a foreign country where he could not have stuck out more if he tried. Relations had never been good between the Empire and the Dynasty, or humans and drow. So why did they send him alone? Was it a vote of confidence, or were they throwing him to the lions because he was expendable? This job was too important for a new recruit. He could not imagine how real politicians lived like this, knowing thousands of lives hanged in the balance with every decision they made.

“Hey man, it's nothing! Just put a good word in with Dairon and we're squared,” Beauregard said before departing.

Caleb found himself alone in his beautiful room, with its towering stained glass windows and walls. It was much nicer than any room he had ever stayed in before, but he had no idea how long he would be staying, so he didn't want to get too cozy. He hummed, collapsed on the bed, remembered his orders, went over them in his head: _'Learn as much as possible about this school of magic the Kryn call 'dunamancy.'_ _What is its source? What is it capable of? Can any arcanist harness its power?' _But he had no idea where to start. These people, and their culture, were so alien to his. He couldn't begin to wrap his head around their religion, or how a race relinquished to darkness because it was all they could tolerate would come to worship 'the Light' in the first place. It seemed irrational, illogical, and these... well, even from his brief audience with the Bright Queen, he could tell these people were not irrational, illogical people. Whatever their goals may be, they were clearly very clever to have survived for as long as they have in such a desolate wasteland.

_Why do we still call it Ghor Dranas back home?_ He wondered. _Why do all the books in the Academy claim they still worship Lolth? _If they had lied about that, what else could be wrong? Who were these people, and why did they welcome him so warmly, if they hated the Empire? Maybe they just wanted him close so they could keep an eye on him. He could not blame them for being suspicious. His people had feared theirs for centuries, generations. The mutual antipathy ran deep. All Caleb wanted to know was_ 'why?' _It was dangerous to ask such questions in the Empire. Maybe here, so far from home, he could find the answers he seeked.

* * *

Decked in lights, the halls of the Lucid Bastion were brightly illuminated. There were hundreds of guests, dressed in every colour under the Luxon. The Bright Queen wore an exquisite headpiece of curved ibex horns and a ballgown inlaid with diamonds and opals. Lady Zethris Olios also stood out in an elegant floorlength blue gown and pearl circlet, surrounded by attendants, guards, and admirers. Caleb felt under-dressed and out of place, dressed in red and black, Empire Colours. He wore a simple black mask, and had tied back his long ginger hair neatly with a small black ribbon.

He watched the evening's proceedings from a safe distance, quietly sipping wine and making mental notes of guests who might be of interest to the Assembly, but the fact everyone was wearing masks, and half the patrons were speaking either Undercommon or Abyssal, complicated his investigation. Every so often he would catch sight of Beau's drow form weaving through the crowd, and they would exchange a look or wave, and she would indicate a 'person of interest,' who he could make small talk with, or share with him some gossip she had overheard.

Eventually he ran into the blue tiefling Beau spoke so highly of. Before he could say a word, she had already pulled him, against his will, into a dance. He had no intention of dancing at all that night, but it was too late to refuse. She started dancing without him. After a few moments, following her lead and taking up her hand, he fell in step with her.

“You must be the Ambassador Beau talked about!” She exclaimed, drawing him closer than he would have liked. Caleb continued to search the room, studying the faces that passed him by as best he could, but they were all wearing masks, and they were moving too fast. Jester's mask had a floral theme, green leaves forming vines which encircled her eyes, and small satin flowers in pink and blue grew out of them, and curled over her brow and around her face, in winding, elegant spirals. "She told me you needed a dance partner! I'm Jester Lavorre, by the way."

“Caleb Widogast. It's very kind of you to offer, Miss Lavorre, but I'm not much of a dancer,” he answered, forcing a smile as he scanned the room. He had never liked large crowds and wasn't used to them. His eyes locked on a little goblin in a yellow dressed, perched atop some wooden boxes beside a deal table, twirling a necklace made of buttons. There was something strangely familiar about her, although he could not think why. Maybe if he asked... before he could break away, Jester has spun him around, and they were moving in a different direction.

“Just one more! It will be SO much fun, trust me! I'll make it fun! I'm a real good dancer.” She did seem sweet, so he consented to 'one more dance,' which became two, then three, then four...

...he was getting tired of hearing stories about some god called 'The Traveller,' and how she had successfully defaced several temples across Exandria with 'magic paints,' which could apparently make everything she painted come to life. It sounded... far-fetched, even to him, and he was a wizard. She seemed like a very sweet young woman, but... he was supposed to be fraternizing with the local nobility, not spending all of his time with the first social pariah he met. Still, he could see why Beau liked her. If only it was Beau dancing with her, now, instead of him. She may have been sweet, but she was also pure energy, chaos incarnate. He needed a break. Someone must have heard his prayer, because as the song drew to a close and the dancers slowed to a standstill, waiting for the orchestra to change over to the next number, someone tapped Caleb on the shoulder. He nearly jumped. It was unexpected. No one had walked him through these rituals. He looked over his shoulder and forgot how to speak.

“May I have the next dance?” A masked drow asked. His mask was black and gold, elegant, feathered. He wore black robes lined with purple, over a fitted suit, which was also feathered around the collar, with a golden clasp, and military-style epaulets. His face was rounded, save for a sharp, somewhat pointed jaw, high cheekbones, elvhen ears slanted back, and full lips smiling softly. Charcoal skin and short white wavy hair added an interesting contrast to the dash of colour woven into his clothes and mask.

Before he could answer him, Caleb turned to Jester, a question half-formed on his lips, only to find she was staring, too. Finally something they could agree on. She put up her hands and shook her head, looking between them. He might have been unsure which one of them this man wished to dance with, but he was clearly looking at Caleb when he extended his hand.

"No, by all means, you two have fun! I'll be around if you ever get lonely, Sunshine." She blew a kiss in Caleb's direction and darted off in search of her next victim. Caleb quickly turned to face the dark elf, red-faced.

"She's not... I don't... I've only just met her!" He stammered out, by way of explanation, before sheepishly offering his hand.

Essek gave him a sympathetic look, not needing any explanation, and took Caleb’s hand. Caleb immediately went silent as Essek's fingers laced with his, pulling him closer, until they were face to face. He led him into the next dance silently. For the first few minutes, they kept stumbling over each other's feet. They could not decide who was leading.

"Why don't you try leading this time?" Caleb suggested, finding his way off the poor man's feet and allowing him to adjust himself, accordingly.

"I'll give it a go," he answered with a wolfish smile, as one hand took up Caleb's, clasped it lightly and pulled it out to the side, so their arms were extended, horizontal. The other hooked around his waist, before finally resting just above the small of his back.

Caleb stifled a nervous laugh, pushed back the hair from his face with his free hand, before letting it drop to his shoulder. Music started playing. Another waltz. That was good, that was safe. He soon eased into the steps of the dance, and slowly grew less conscious of where their hands were, and what their feet were doing. _Eins, zwei, drei... _

It became more natural, more easy, just to let go. When he danced with Astrid or Eodwulf, when he first learned, it was just to pass the time. None of them really cared whether or not they followed the steps perfectly or how they looked. It was never practiced or formal. This _was _practiced and formal, they had an audience, plenty of people were staring at them, but after a few minutes he stopped caring. He was too busy concentrating on the music, and the partner he was dancing with, and how close they had gotten, between the first song and the second; the second and the third. It had not occurred to him how close you could get during a waltz, while still moving in perfect tandem, still keeping time. It felt... nice. The repetitive rhythm, the whirling lights, the rise and fall of the music, the pattern they cut across the floor, it was all very... nice. When the music began to lull, and it was quiet enough to speak without being drowned out completely, he felt brave enough to say so.

“This is nice.”

Essek's eyes, which had been glossing across the room, taking stock of the other guests, darted back to him, curious.

“The party! The party is nice,” Caleb clarified, to avoid confusion.

Essek was staring intently at him, now, with shining eyes and a warm smile.

“I find these parties rather dull, myself. I wish I'd found you sooner.”

Caleb kept on smiling at him, at a loss for words. He had no idea who he was, or what he wanted. No idea why he was brave or foolish enough to dance with the only human in Rosohna. He was just glad for the opportunity to let someone else take the lead, to hold some kind of transient power over him, who he _wanted_ to follow. His heart beat in time with the music. If he closed his eyes, if he lowered his guard... he could so easily lose himself in that gentle melody, guiding hands, and lean in...

“May I ask your name?” Caleb asked before being led him into a dip. It was ridiculous. He was showing off. But Caleb didn't mind, really. Eodwulf would try stunts like that, sometimes, to show off how strong he was. He'd lift Astrid, she was so short and light and boxy, and he'd dip Caleb. But this drow was no Eodwulf, and the very fact he _could_ dip Caleb without dropping him, despite being slighter in stature, was a feat in and of itself. Elves never ceased to amaze him. That hidden, lithe strength was always so surprising when it showed through.

“Why would you? It's so much nicer this way, is it not? No names, no titles, no expectations..." Essek let the silence draw out, alluringly. He knew how to stoke anticipation like a fire. He drew Caleb up in an effortless motion, as if he weighed nothing at all. “I could be anyone you want me to be.”

“For all I know, you could be a murderer. Or a highwayman,” Caleb countered, readjusting himself as they started dancing again. He could feel his resolve ebbing. It was too early, and he was not drunk enough, to fall for this. So why was he falling for this? Why was he playing along?

“I could be, yes,” he replied, cocking his head to one side, inquisitively. “Why? Are you afraid of highwayman?” Another smile. _Fuck._

_He's not important. You're wasting time._ He bit his lip, drawing the drow's gaze there. He hadn’t meant to. It didn’t matter.

“Not really...”

“I didn't think so. You look like you could hold your own against a few bandits.”

He was not so sure he could. He was a glass cannon, and he knew it. When they had started training, Eodwulf had always made a point of making sure Caleb stood back, and attacked from hiding, while he would race straight for the enemy. Astrid would attack from stealth, Eodwulf would rely on brute force, and Caleb would stay back, and attack from afar, because he knew he couldn't take more than one or two hits before going down. But this wasn't a good time to think about _them_.

The next song was decidedly _not _a waltz. It was much slower.

_“May I?”_ His partner asked, meeting his eyes before moving closer.

Caleb could not have said 'yes' faster, even though he could not be further from his comfort zone, and he had already wasted too much time dancing when he should have been finding contacts. But he was enjoying himself, enjoying this; pressed up against an alluring stranger, so close he could trail a hand up his back, before finding a position where their bodies fit together perfectly. It felt natural, perfectly natural, to lay his head on his shoulder, when the rhythm, and the music, began to make him feel drowsy. It was practically an embrace. It was _worse _than an embrace, because he didn't know who this man was, and they were in public, and the warmth of his body, pressed flush against his, was too irresistible for words. If they did not attract attention before, they were attracting it now. The hold on his hand tightened. Caleb closed his eyes, pressed closer, raised the hand resting against his lower back a little higher up his spine, _felt him _shiver. Smiled, because he did, because he could, because it was some kind of victory, because he wasn't the only one burning up.

_Gods, you're desperate,_ he thought, trying to shake himself out of this trance. _Stay focused. Don't close your eyes, like a fool, don't lean into him. He's only dancing with you because you're a novelty. He's probably never met a human before. Half the people here have never met humans before, unless it's in battle. Unless it's to kill them. _

Jester, who had already found another victim, winked at him from across the room when their eyes met on the dancefloor, forcing him back onto this plane. He lifted his head off of Essek's shoulder and slid back a step... which was a mistake. Sensing something was wrong, Essek pulled back, too, golden eyes filled with concern, but because their hands were still connected, he inadvertently pulled him forward, and off balance, in the same motion. The drow let go and caught him by the shoulders, quickly setting him right on his feet. As Caleb looked down to reposition himself so he was not tripping over his partner's feet, mumbling an apology, he noticed for the first time that they did not touch the ground.

_He's working some kind of magic; he has to be. _

_Levitation? __No._ _Gravity._

_He's practicing dunamancy. He could be the lead you've been looking for, _whispered a voice in the back of his head he was trying very hard to ignore. _Ask him what he knows; what it's capable of. Remember your training. It won't be hard. He likes you. _

“Careful,” Essek chided, giving Caleb space to recompose himself. Caleb immediately extended his hands, hoping to pull him back into another dance and pick up precisely where they had left off, already missing the warmth of his body, but it was only with great hesitance the elf took up his hands and rejoined the dancing. It took a moment to find the easy cadence they had lost and fall into step with the melody.

The silence between them, which had been so comfortable before, became jarring now that it had been interrupted. Inching closer, slowly, organically, over time, had felt natural, but now that Caleb had moved too quickly to sink against him from a standstill, it seemed... jarring. He was moving too fast. Was he moving too fast? Should he say something? He was terrible at small talk. They could not have chosen a worse person for this mission. He could be charming, when he wanted to be, he could turn it on and off like a switch, but now when he needed it most, his confidence deserted him. The worst part was how _obvious_ it was that his anxiety was spiking. He didn't belong here.

“Would you like a drink? I think the Bright Queen's about to make another speech,” Essek suggested as the song drew to a close, and the dancers slowed to a stop.

Caleb didn't want to stop dancing. He didn't want his partner to leave, because that meant losing that warmth forever. But he did not want to look as desperate as he felt, either, by asking him to stay, so... he said 'yes,' but it was hard to hear anything over the music. Essek led him away from the other dancers to a quiet corner, trying not to lose him in the enveloping crowd. Caleb was afraid of losing him to that crowd, afraid he might never see him again. It was stupid, irrational... and his mouth kept moving, and Caleb couldn't make out a word. He stared at his lips, trying to read them, but they were full, and tinged purple, and when they parted, he sometimes saw pointed incisors, and it was hard to focus. All he could think about was what it would feel like to have those sharp teeth graze his tongue, his lips... he disappeared, but returned a few moments later with two glasses of wine. He handed one to Caleb, and started saying something about Rosohna.

_“What?”_ Caleb shouted over the din of the orchestra. Essek sighed, clearly just as frustrated as Caleb was. He took hold of his arm and led him away from the dancing and the orchestra and the brightly-coloured guests. Once they were on the other side of the main door, Essek let go of Caleb's arm, and dusted off his cloak.

“It’s a waste of time trying to speak in there. Would you like to go somewhere quieter, where we may talk?” He asked, turning to face Caleb.

“Oh, I... well, okay. Where did you want to go?” Caleb asked, swallowing hard. He didn't really want to talk. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to stay in the main chamber, where it was loud and crowded and nothing he said mattered and he could hold him close without needing an explanation. But he had never been kidnapped by a highwayman before, and he wanted to see where this would go.

“I know just the place. I think I can snag us some food, as well. Come with me,” he said with a flourish of his hand, picking up his glass before leading them down another corridor.

The Lucid Bastion was beginning to resemble a maze. The towering windows and mirrors only helped contribute to its labyrinthine appearance. The corridors seemed never ending, and all the doors looked the same. Eventually, Essek found the one he was looking for, and opened it.

There were a few discarded trays of hors d'oeuvres gleaming silver atop a side-table. There was also an opened door leading out onto the balcony, letting in a cool breeze which was welcome after spending so long shut up in that crowded chamber.

Essek took up a handful of grapes, started eating them delicately.

Caleb went a different colour and simply stared, still clinging close to the door. The room appeared to be completely empty. He had not expected that. What was he doing following a strange man into an empty room? Why on Exandria did he agree to this? He had assumed Essek would take him somewhere with fewer quests, yes, but he had not expected to be taken to a private room, where they would be alone. Essek motioned to the trays.

“Please, go ahead, eat! You are our 'esteemed guest' after all.”

If he were not eating off the trays himself, Caleb would suspect they were poisoned, he was so insistent.

“I'm a guest of the Bright Queen,” Caleb clarified from where he stood by the door. It sounded too much like a defense: _Don't kill me, or they will look for you! __Unless they are the ones who sent you. _Why was_ that_ the first place his mind went? Was he really so undesirable that his first suspicion, upon being drawn away from a party to a private room by a charming stranger, was that they intended to murder him? They had been dancing for awhile. Maybe he just wanted food, and air, and quiet. Or maybe he wanted to get Caleb alone so he could ravish him. There were other options, more pleasant than murder.

Caleb tentatively edged forward and picked something up off the tray, which appeared to be some kind of seafood covered in rich spices. He ate it slowly.

Essek smiled, approvingly. “It is good, yes?”

Caleb finished it and nodded. It didn't _taste_ poisoned.

Essek took another sip of wine, and Caleb followed suit.

“You're an arcanist, I expect?” Essek guessed, looking him over.

“I know a few spells,” he answered, as if he had not devoted his whole life to the study of magic. As if magic weren't the only thing he was any good at, the only thing that felt _right_, the only thing that felt like _home__._ But he had never told anyone that, and given his current position, he felt it safer to undersell his abilities here.

“You'll have to show me one day. I'm an arcanist myself,” he explained, dancing his fingers through the air and summoning a shimmering display of residual magic. It was a useless gesture. He was just showing off again.

_What a smug bastard, _Caleb thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. _Should've known he was a wizard.  
_

Essek perched atop the the table with an easy, hapless grace, and continued eating. Caleb edged closer. To be nearer the food, and to have somewhere to set down his drink, and for no other reason.

The mage extended a hand, lightly trailed it up Caleb's arm as he drank. Such deft, slender fingers. Caleb silently murmured a prayer to his outlawed gods that he'd get to feel those fingers running through his hair before the night was over.

Since when did he have a thing for elves? _No, worse. Cricks. One Crick, anyway._ He couldn't _think_ when he looked at him he was so beautiful. His head went perfectly blank.

“Are you having fun?” Essek asked, casting a crooked smile in his direction.

“With you?” Caleb supplied, vainly trying to find purchase in this conversation, but still stumbling in the dark.

He was supposed to be good at this. He had been_ trained_ to be good at this! All he could imagine was Astrid and Eodwulf laughing at him. He could hear Astrid's voice, goading him on: _'Stop wasting time! Ask him for spells. He's the one who invited you here; he's doing all the work. Just bat your eyes, smile, lower your voice. He'll tell you everything you need to know.'  
_

“In Rosohna. You're not from around here, I take it?” The gold of his eyes danced like a flame. Caleb couldn't look away, even if he wanted to. Even if he tried. He didn't try.

Instead, he cleared his throat.

“The Kryn certainly know how to throw a party,” he observed, trying to steer this conversation somewhere safe, so he could finish eating, and his wine, then return to the party and the relative safety it offered. He would rather try his luck with a room full of nobles than one very alluring mage with a mask and a bottle of wine.

Essek refilled his glass, then held the bottle up, asked if Caleb wanted any more. Caleb quietly said_ 'yes,'_ watched as he poured. He was never going to make it out of this room alive.

“We don't have many festivals, but we make the most of those we have. You chose a good time to visit our little city. Nearly every other day of the year the Dens are at each other's throats, but today... they are all on their best behaviour. Amusing, isn't it, the games nobles play? I imagine it's no different in the Empire.”

Caleb had no idea what nobles were like in the Empire. Members of the Assembly were often invited to their parties, but they made a point of not inviting _him._ He was just an impetus upstart, who came from nothing and was too ambitious for his own good.

“Aren't you a noble?” Caleb asked. He certainly acted like one.

Essek snorted, evidently amused by the suggestion he could have anything in common with the nobles there.

“No, not at all! But it's sweet of you to think so. My family were... simple people, farmers. I was fortunate enough to be accepted by a prominent Den after demonstrating a natural aptitude for dunamancy. I was a… promising child, so I waved good-bye to my family and came to live in the Lucid Bastion, where I completed my training. I have lived here ever since. But I am not one of them, I don't have an illustrious family legacy, and I have not lived multiple lives in service to the Bright Queen, earning my place here. They take every opportunity they are granted to remind me of this fact.”

He was opening up to him. If he was tactful, he could ask for more. He could ask about the inner workings of the Dynasty, the study of dunamancy. He was too new to their world to be anyone of consequence, so he wouldn't be taking that much of a risk... right?

“I think I understand,” Caleb replied, nodding faintly. “When I first came to the Academy, I was viewed with suspicion, because I came from nothing. Every day I had to prove myself to them, prove I had any right to be there. Then I graduated, top of class, and worked my way up like a shot. I showed them all.” He snapped his fingers, produced a little flame. It was a simple cantrip, but one usually beyond the reach of wizards. He smiled a little too smugly. He knew parlour tricks, too. “I do not think we should be defined by how we start out in life. We should be defined by the choices we make; the progress we've made. What matters is not who we were, but what we have become.”

Essek watched the flame, transfixed, until Caleb snapped it away, and his attention refocused. He looked Caleb up and down, seeming to see him in a new light.

“Yes, well... you may be right,” he said with a sigh, “but I have no wish to become one of them, really. They know this, and it makes them indignant. They presume that I think I am better than them, just because I do not wish to play their games, and dislike their affectation. It's all so tiresome.”

“Then why have you still not taken off your mask?” Caleb asked. They were alone, now, pouring their hearts out. There was no reason to keep up this charade. Yet still he wore his mask, still he clung to the anonymity it gave him.

“I like some parts,” Essek admitted. “Do you really think I could speak so freely with an outsider if I were not wearing this mask?” He added, a faint smile returning. A glint of curved and sharpened canines set in a very angular face, with cheekbones so sharp they could cut you, and the softest eyes he had ever seen. He embodied so many extremes: dark and light, soft and sharp, tempting and intimidating; and all in equal measure.

Caleb smiled back as if he understood. Maybe a part of him did. Maybe a part of him envied this man who could hide behind a mask, and experience such freedom, even if only for one night. How much simpler life would be if it were so easy to hide, to become someone else, to step out of your skin, to escape.

“Well, for the son of a farmer, you dance beautifully.”

Essek beamed, bowing slightly.

“Why thank you, I do try. You're not so bad yourself.”

Every word he spoke dripped off his tongue like honey. Caleb wanted to keep him talking, in the hope he'd say something useful. Certainly _not_ because he liked the sound of his voice. He asked about Rosohna, the Dynasty, Dens. Essek took every chance which presented itself to derail the conversation. He had just as many questions, if not more, for Caleb. Hours passed before Caleb noticed the clock on the wall. He had never lost track of time like that before. He was losing focus, and they had very nearly run out of wine.

His eyes darted from the clock to the door. Essek watched him, closely, following his line of sight.

“I hope you're not planning to leave before the fireworks?”

“What are fireworks?” Caleb asked, lifting his head.

“Are you telling me you don't know?! Oh, you really must see this! We have the best view in Rosohna!”

Essek set down his drink and excitedly leapt to his feet, taking up Caleb's hand and leading him out onto the adjoining balcony.

He followed, knowing it was a mistake, knowing he should make up an excuse and leave... and he would have left, if he weren't holding his hand, and didn't seem so excited about sharing these 'fireworks' with him.

_After the fireworks I'll go, _he decided, firmly. He silently prayed that Beauregard had been more successful than him, so they would have _something, anything, _to report to Dairon tomorrow morning, before his audience with the Bright Queen.

Essek sat down on the floor, in all his finery, then dragged Caleb down with him, so they were sitting side-by-side, shoulder to shoulder. Essek pointed up at the sky, then pressed closer, whispered into his ear behind a cupped hand that that is where the fireworks would appear. Caleb instinctively, without thinking, hooked an arm around his waist. He waited for a reaction, waited for Essek to pull away, but instead he leaned in closer, one hand reaching for Caleb's. He turned it over, inspected it thoughtfully, running two fingers and a thumb along the inside of Caleb's palm.

“You read fortunes?” Caleb asked, a little surprised, once he realised what he was doing.

Essek smiled and shook his head.

"No, not really. But I can change them."

He lightly trailed a finger over one line in particular, hesitated.

“This is the heart line,” he indicated, then: “this is the head line. Here is the line of fate. It's all idle superstition, of course, we decide our own destinies, but... my mother taught me how to read hands. _She_ was rather superstitious.”

Caleb was not superstitious, but he liked the way Essek kept running his fingers across his hand, so he took the bait. “What does mine say, then?”

“That your head rules your heart,” he explained, tilting his face to peer up at an expectant Caleb. “Which seems unlikely,” he added with a dismayed hum.

“Why?”

“You're here, now, aren't you?”

Caleb drew his hand away, and out of Essek's. He hated how transparent he was.

“And what does your destiny look like?” Caleb asked, eliciting a disappointed sigh from the dark elf.

“Everyone knows their place in the Dynasty. I must serve my Queen, and attain glory for my Den. That's all that matters,” he explained.

“So your happiness isn't important?” The words had left his mouth before he could stop them. He shouldn't have said anything.

Essek snorted, stifling a laugh.

“What could make me happier than serving my Queen, and winning glory for my Den?!”

Then he suddenly grew very sombre. Bringing up his knees, he turned over and leant against Caleb’s chest, raising a hand to lightly clasp one of his lapels. Before Caleb could say anything, a firework loudly crackled as it darted through the air and into the sky above them, before shattering into explosive light. It was followed by several others, released in quick succession.

It was much louder than Caleb had expected, but the fireworks themselves were... magnificent. A few minutes passed before Caleb tentatively wrapped an arm around Essek's shoulder. He pressed closer, making a home in the fold of his arm. He pinned back his ears, tilting his head against the crook of Caleb's neck. Caleb resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hair. He didn’t want to push his luck.

There was music down below in the courtyard. It climbed up through the air and through the rafters, just like smoke. It dissipated into echoes, and melted out of sight, and out of mind, whenever Essek spoke, whenever his soft, gentle voice cut through the air.

“What's the Empire like? Is it so very different?” He asked without looking up, without tearing his eyes away from the display.

“Haven't you been?”

Essek shook his head.

“I've never left Xhorhas,” he admitted, still watching, still transfixed.

“I could show you one day, if you ever wanted to visit...” he suggested, without thinking. He could hardly take a drow to the Empire. Most people in the Empire hated drow... _because they had never met one, _Caleb thought, then winced, remembering how low an opinion he had held of dark elves before coming here, when all he had to go on were the horror stories they told children back in Rexxentrum.

The fireworks lit up the sky like heat lightning, like a magical tempest. Lazily, Caleb traced a sigil in the air with his free hand.

“Do you know this one?” He asked. Essek nodded, watching closely. _“Dancing lights._ I've seen it in a book. Don't need it.”

He did another._ “Haste,”_ Essek was quick to answer, before drawing a sigil of his own through the air.

When no reply came, he looked over his shoulder to peer up at Caleb, who shook his head.

“Don't know that one,” he admitted, already lost in wide, blinking, cat-like eyes.

_"Levitation!"_ Essek exclaimed, clearly proud of himself for having stumped Caleb, before murmurring the words which activated the spell. He raised Caleb's glass of wine off the ground magically, then took it up in his free hand as he pushed himself up and over Caleb, one hand pressed against his chest for support. He drank from Caleb's glass before handing it back to him, spilling into his lap as he did so, a bony knee jutting into his thigh. Caleb touched his hip, lightly, and he moved his leg over.

Fireworks shimmered overhead, in brilliant reds, greens, blues, and purples, but Caleb was far too transfixed by the attractive drow leaning over him, now, perilously close, to notice. He took up the glass, threw it back in a way he thought looked effortless, and nearly choked. Essek waited patiently for him to catch his breath, then took the glass from him and set it down, gingerly, on the stone floor of the balcony.

Before Caleb could brush away the excess wine, Essek had caught his arm and glided forward, until their mouths connected, and he could taste the lingering wine which still hung on his lips. It took a few seconds for Caleb’s head to catch up with his body. As soon as it did, he leaned into the kiss. Essek let go of his arm and Caleb's hand, now free, clasped his neck, dragged him closer, onto the floor of the balcony. His other hand was grasping blindly, trying to find his waist, his hips, the curve of his backside, but he wouldn't keep still.

“Is this okay?” He asked, drawing himself up, so he was on his hands and knees over him, but still close enough that Caleb could easily pull him back into his arms if he wanted to, from where he lay on his back, looking up at Essek, and the stars overhead.

From this angle, everything seemed much clearer. _I don't want to ask him about magic. I don't care what, or who, he knows. I don't want to use him. I don't want to use anyone. I'm not like Trent. I could never be like Trent._

Essek tilted his head to one side and took up Caleb's chin between his thumb and forefinger, patiently awaiting his answer, but Caleb was still struggling to find his voice. How long had it been since he had kissed _anyone?_ Now he was kissing a stranger on a balcony in a strange country, and... and he had no desire to stop. 

“I can think of worse ways to spend my evening,” he said, trying his best to smile coyly and feign disinterest, as if he were used to mysterious masked strangers kissing him breathless beneath the stars, as if this sort of thing happened everyday. The fact it could _ever_ happen had never really occurred to him, never really crossed his mind, not even in dreams.

Long, deft, slender fingers trailed up his shirt, collar, and neck as Essek looked him over, searching, exploring. Their lips connected again, briefly, in a considering kiss. He was still testing the waters. Still trying to make up his mind.

“I've wanted to know what that would feel like since you walked through the throne room doors,” Essek admitted, smiling divinely as he combed a hand through Caleb's hair. His brain short-circuited. He blinked a few times, before giving up completely, and leaning into the touch. It was strangely hypnotic. Everything about him was strangely hypnotic. He had fallen under his spell so quickly, but… he did not want to resist, and he could not think of a single reason why he _should_. They both wanted this, whatever 'this' was. It didn't have to get in the way of his work. Whoever he was, he could not have been anyone special, or... or... or he would be allowed in the Bright Queen's throne room.

“What were you doing in the throne room?” Caleb asked, coming to a little from his trance.

Essek's hand stopped and his smile disappeared. He drew away, taking his hands with him. Caleb could only watch in dismay.

He had clearly said too much. He cursed, inwardly, having said anything at all. He had enjoyed having that smug but charming elf draped in his arms, one hand in his hair and his tongue in his mouth. He held out hope he could still salvage this situation by kissing away whatever doubts made him hesitate. He wanted to show him how he felt, because he lacked the vocabulary to put into words how much he wanted him. He tried to undo his mantle, but couldn't figure out the catch in the dark. When he finally managed it, with Essek's help, it dropped to the floor. Essek undid a few buttons, and they broke away long enough for Caleb to discard his own jacket, before reaching out to him, blindly, in the dark, eyes closed, and getting drawn back into another embrace.

Caleb took off his mask, not caring where it fell. Essek kissed his neck a few times, teeth grazing the skin but never sinking as deeply as Caleb wanted them to, afraid to damage that delicate neck, then drew back to look his fill at Caleb, unmasked, flushed and covered in freckles, eyes burning.

"How handsome you are," Essek observed with surprising tenderness, running a hand through his hair as he admired him. "I didn't know humans could be so lovely."

The next moment he had let go, and rolled onto the floor beside him. A yelp of protest broke involuntarily from Caleb's mouth at the sudden loss, and he opened his eyes to see Essek raise himself up onto his elbows. He pinched his cheek, endeared by how dismayed Caleb looked the moment he left his arms. It is always flattering to feel needed. He took hold of his collar with both hands and dragged him back into another deep, drawn out kiss. It was an act of pity, a parting gift. If Caleb were in his right mind he would have known that, but he was too far gone to tell the difference between lust and pity. Caleb moaned against it, breathless, starving. He kissed the corner of his mouth as Essek tried, in vain, to pull away. The more he kissed him, the less he wanted to.

“You're too beautiful,” Caleb nearly wept. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the night, but he felt reverential. He wanted to worship him, build temples in his honour. He wasn't used to so much tenderness. “You can't be real!” He felt so alive, so awake. His feet and hands were burning up. He tried to pull free his mask, but Essek stopped his hand.

_"No, stop!"_ He snapped with too much force. Caleb stopped at once. Essek let go of his hand and it dropped lifeless to his side. “That's not... I don't want to take it off,” he tried to explain, more gently, already regretting raising his voice and scaring Caleb.

“Then keep it on! I got carried away, I'm sorry, I didn't think... I wasn't thinking!” Apologies rolled easily off his tongue, because he could tell the mage was upset, because he would have said anything to make him _less_ upset, even though he was not entirely sure what he had done wrong._  
_

“I should really go. My Den has probably sent out a search party to look for me,” he explained, before gliding to his feet and extending an arm to help Caleb up off the ground and onto his. Caleb did not want him to leave, but could not for the life of him come up with a good reason why he _should_ stay. All the reasons which leapt to mind were selfish ones. _Because if you go, I won't be able to take your clothes off with my teeth. Is that even possible?_ He'd give it a go.

“Ambassador, please let go of my arm,” Essek insisted, firmly. Caleb immediately let go and pulled back.

“Can I at least know your name?" Caleb asked, grasping at straws.

Essek's smile dissipated. A light that went out in the dark. He looked away, and Caleb felt so alone, so alone, endlessly alone.

A million green lanterns glittered faintly in the streets beneath them, but here they were shrouded in shadows, here they were free. No one was watching. No one would overhear. So why such secrecy? What was he so afraid of?

He moved closer, tucked a strand of hair behind Caleb's ear.

“My name is... unimportant. I thought that much was clear. We were having such fun without it.”

The sort of fun Beauregard liked, and Vollstrecker never had. The sort of fun that wasn't complicated by emotions. So it was only a game, he only wanted to play a game, and he was upset with Caleb for not following the rules. He seemed disappointed, too, that it had to end like this. Neither of them got what they wanted.

“I want to be friends,” Caleb insisted, one last vain attempt at winning some kind of compromise. He just wanted some reassurance, however illusory, that he might see him again. He was not good at opening up to people. He hated when Beauregard would tease him about having no friends, because she was right, and he knew she was right... but he liked this mage. He didn't know why. It wasn't just physical attraction, although that complicated things, yes. He had enjoyed talking to him. If they had never kissed, he could have been perfectly happy, just talking like that, for the rest of the day, for the rest of their lives. Only they _had_ kissed, and he got carried away, because he wanted more, and stupidly thought to ask for it, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. For some reason... he liked him, liked the way he talked, the way he listened. He even liked his smug little smile and his stupid parlour tricks and the obnoxious way he'd go on about being a prodigy as if it fucking _mattered,_ because he already _knew_ he had him, he didn't need to say anything else, it was all so unnecessary, if he had just kissed him then they would have saved so much_ time!_

“Then please, no names. It's much better this way.”

Essek made for the door, or started to. Caleb reached out and took hold of his arm, surprising himself. Essek turned around, looking at him expectantly, one brow raised.

He was bad at this, bad at sincerity, bad at opening up to another person, knowing they might use your feelings against you. It wasn't something he had learned while training to be a spy; an assassin. It's not something you learn.

“Can I see you again?” Caleb asked, suddenly feeling very small.

“Maybe,” he answered, as if it made no difference to him either way.

_Fuck you, too_, Caleb wanted to say. He wanted to feel so... indifferent. But he didn't feel indifferent at all. He couldn't stop thinking about that first kiss, and the way he'd looked at him like it meant something.

“I don't care who you were before today. I enjoyed talking to you. Dancing with you. I'm glad we met. I'd like to see you again.”

He knew he was taking a risk and making himself look vulnerable by caring so damn much, but he genuinely enjoyed whatever this was between them, this tension you could cut with a knife. It had been so long since he felt like this. Had he ever felt like this?

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Essek responded with a sad smile. “We are from different worlds. You will see this for yourself soon enough.” He took up his cloak, threw it over his shoulders, practically disappearing beneath the heavy mantle. “Take care when traversing Rosohna. The inhabitants do not always take kindly to humans. Light be with you.”

“Auf Wiedersehen,” Caleb mumbled under his breath.

He waited until he heard the door fall closed behind him before throwing his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

“Gods,” he groaned, shaking his head. “I don't have time for this!”

_This is only a game to him._ He had practically said so, himself. He didn't want Caleb to know who he was, because he didn't want to see him again. Maybe if he had simply played along he could have gotten a one night stand out of this. Would that have been so terrible? Getting in bed with the enemy? That was what he was trained to do, anyway._ 'Get close, by any means necessary; learn all you can, by any means necessary.' _

But it was too late, now. The mysterious stranger was gone. The masquerade had ended. He would have to report to Beauregard before the night was over, or Dairon would get suspicious, and if Dairon got suspicious, they would contact his handlers in Rexxentrum, who'd ask a lot of questions he didn't want to answer.

_"I'm following a lead,'" _he could say, but what lead? He had no idea who this man was or what he could offer. He claimed to be part of a Den, he claimed to be a prodigy of dunamancy... but maybe it was all a lie, a story he invented to go with his disguise.

They were both acting, they were both playing parts. Why should he be so surprised, so _disappointed, _by the thought this man could be anything other than he pretended to be? He didn't even know his _name! _

He could ask Beauregard. If he was feeling particularly suicidal, he could even ask Dairon._ No, that's stupid. This is stupid. It doesn't matter. He's probably not important.  
_

Maybe Beauregard could track him down, deliver a letter. All he wanted was to see him again. All he wanted was to finish what they started.

He wouldn't ask any more questions, he wouldn't even ask his name, he'd play by his rules. All he wanted was one more chance.

* * *

He found Beauregard dancing around the nearly empty chamber hall with Jester, surrounded by covered tables, overturned chairs, mops, and brooms, after the masquerade had officially ended. He watched them from a distance, patiently waiting his turn with Beau. As soon as she caught sight of Caleb over Jester's shoulder, after leading her into a dip where, in fits of laughter, she had very neadly dropped the blue tiefling, she waved. Caleb threw back someone else's discarded drink while he waited, trying to compose his thoughts through the haze he was still in.

Beau gave Jester a quick kiss on the cheek and asked to have a moment alone with Caleb. Before she could report her findings, Caleb had already started rambling about some mysterious mage in a feathered mask who had swept him away for the greater part of the evening and probably knew a lot of vitally important secrets about dunamancy which could be of great use to them and yes he was attractive but that didn't matter because he was so damn _useful, _whoever he was.

“Slow down! And stop pacing, you're leaving tracks with your boots. One of us is going to have to clean that up and it's not going to be me,” Beau replied. “So all you really know about this guy is that he's a pretty dark elf who can cast a few spells. That's half the nobles in Rosohna, Caleb.”

“_Widogast,_ please. We're colleagues, not friends,” he pointed out for the eighth time this week, and he'd only arrived yesterday

“Sorry, my bad, I forgot Scourgers aren't allowed to have friends.”

“He isn't a noble by birth, he's... some kind of prodigy. His parents were poor, but he was sent to a good school and adopted by his Den because he had a natural aptitude for dunamancy," Caleb supplied, giving thanks to his almost perfect recall.

Beau gave him a skeptical look. Up until now all she had to work with was a needlessly detailed physical description. Now he reveals he learned this man's entire backstory over the course of one evening. _Sure._

“Which Den does he belong to?” She asked, as evenly as she could, hoping by remaining calm, he would take a hint and stop freaking out.

He threw his hands in the air._ “I don't know!_ He wouldn't tell me!”

“Are you sure your interest in this guy is strictly professional?”

“I was sent here to learn all I could about dunamancy, something he's probably spent his whole life studying! He’s everything we’re looking for!"

“Anyone can claim to be a prodigy to try and impress someone they just met,” Beau pointed out. She reached forward to tap his neck. Caleb swatted her hand away. “Did he give you that hickey while teaching you spells?”

“Don't even—! _Archeart, _I don't have a hickey, do I?” He murmurred, suddenly self-conscious. He could distinctly remember the feel of teeth against his neck.

She gave him a devilish smile and winked. “Hah! Got you! So, what really happened?”

He glowered back at her.

“Talking. We were just... talking, and dancing, and then it got harder to talk, because the music was so loud, so we went somewhere quiet, to watch the fireworks, and he...” all colour drained from Caleb's face, and he felt at his neck where Beau had tapped it, still not completely convinced it was free from marks. “He kissed me. I didn't expect it. Or maybe I kissed him. I'm not really sure how it happened. It all kind of… runs together. It was dark. I've never seen fireworks before.”

“What happened to that 'eidetic memory' you're always bragging about?” Beau asked, arms crossed.

She was teasing him, now. There was no way he would ever be able to live this down.

“I may have been drinking,” Caleb admitted meekly. "Please don't tell Dairon."

“So, you kissed him. So what? You don't even know his name, and it doesn't sound like he's in any hurry to see you again.”

Caleb frowned. Beau, realising that may have sounded a little harsh, reached forward and patted his shoulder. She hadn't expected a Scourger to be so sensitive.

"No, that's not... what I'm saying is, his opinion doesn't _matter,_ because he doesn't know you! If he knew you, and what a great guy you probably are when you're not being so serious and boring, I'm sure he'd fall madly in love with you! But it sounds like he was just looking to get laid, and then he decided it wasn't worth risking his career over, which... honestly, should have occurred to you. Not that I am in _any _position to judge, nor would I!" She qualified, carefully. She knew she was walking on eggshells. “But it's not just your job on the line here. Mine is, too.”

“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before," he admitted quietly, his head sinking. He didn’t know why he was confiding in her like this. Just because they had done a few jobs together and she insisted on calling him by his first name didn’t make them friends, not really, but… who else could he talk to? “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life. I don't even know him, not really, I know nothing about him... but I can't help feeling as if we've met before. I think I'm losing my mind.”

“Wait, hold up, are you trying to tell me you’ve never fancied _anyone_ before?”

He scoffed. “No, I… I have, just not like this. I could always ignore it, before. I can’t ignore this.”

Beau draped an arm around his shoulder and started leading him towards the door. He put up no resistance.

Jester piped up when she saw they were moving and quickly joined them. She had already taken off her mask, but still had her ballgown on, and a fan tied to her wrist.

“What’s the matter with him?” She asked, falling in step with them, humming a little song to herself.

“He got his heart broken by some elf who left him high and dry in one of the guest rooms."

“You don't have to tell everyone!” Caleb sputtered.

He could feel his will to live crumbling. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“What! It’s the truth!” Beau shot back.

Jester simply gaped at him, wide-eyed, raising a gloved hand to her mouth.

“Was it the pretty one who asked you to dance?! You're _so _lucky Caleb, he was _super_ hot!”

“Not as lucky as he'd like to be, but the night is young!” She patted his arm, sympathetically. “Come on, let's go. I know the perfect place to go if you want to drown your sorrows.”

“I already have a hangover!” He groaned, covering his eyes as Jester wove an arm through his, helping Beau keep him upright.

“Great! You're way ahead of us!” With Jester on one side and Beau on the other they eventually found themselves in the courtyard outside the Lucid Bastion.

He was slowly getting used to perpetual night, and cold clear air, and being the only _known_ human living in the heart of the Dynasty. Slowly getting used to finding his way by stars and lantern light. Maybe he could get used to having friends, too.


	2. Nothing is Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a few days off so it's back to writing self-indulgent Shadowgast! Sorry about wait. Ended up splitting this chapter into two, so next one will be finished soon. I know Essek does a complete 360 in this one, but it should all make sense later.

_"It's dark down here."_

_"Everything's dark, Essek. It's in the name."_

_"I know, I just... I didn't expect it to be like this. I don't know what I expected."_

_He looked around him, at the encompassing caves and corridors, crawling with vines and roots. Strange plants and rodents and kobolds made their homes here in the Underdark, in cities long ago vacated by their former drow populace. It was strangely damp, humid, oppressive. Tiny streams trickled their way down. Trees grew unnaturally crooked and bleak, denied light, but fungus flourished. The only light came from small, darting, glowing insects, that shimmered blue. He could see in the dark, but... he was not used to caverns, not use to blackness without stars, without moonlight._

_The two Kryn agents accompanying him pressed ahead. The ruins they were sent to explore were, in their own way... beautiful. The closer he looked, the more they uncovered, however, the uglier they seemed. Murals depicting the Betrayal Gods. So much violence. So much blood. Essek grimaced._

_"To think we ever lived this way," he murmured, picking his way gingerly through the rubble. "What are we looking for again?"_

_"An emblem of Tharizdun."_

_He nodded, absently. A glint caught his eye from the rubble and he leant down to pick it up. A bit of broken mirror, tangled up with a pendant. Inside, the image of a young drow woman.  
_

_The Bright Queen probably lived here, several lives ago. Was she still haunted by the memory? This place felt full of ghosts. He couldn't stop shivering. A hand fell on his shoulder, heavily, and made him jump._

_"Hah! Scared you!" Ivore practically sang. Essek turned, glowering, on his friend, the only one with any armour to speak of. He could have struck him down with a magic missile or two to teach him a lesson, but he restrained himself._

_He hated these scavenging missions. Hated drawing the short straw. But he knew he'd have to go, every now and then, or else they would think he was afraid. He heard a strange skittering noise, and a kind of sickly laughter, echoing through the caverns. _

_They were right. He was afraid.  
_

_"Your magic can't help you here," Ivore whispered, leaning dangerously close._

_Essek shoved him away. "Yes, it can."_

_"Then show me."_

_"I don't want to waste my spells on you."_

_"See, Arabella, I told you he wouldn't do it!"_

_"Did you guys hear something?" She called back, already on the other side of the cavern, exploring a hollowed out temple to Lolth._

_"Probably just kobolds. Or maybe a dragon," he teased, turning his hands into claws and batting at the back of Essek's head. He was trying to provoke him. He wanted a fight. Well, he wouldn't get it._

_"I'm not afraid of dragons!" Essek spat back.  
_

_"Yes, you are! That little hatchling had you running before it had even taken its first breath!"_

_"Even the little ones breathe fire! I was being... cautious."_

_He leapt up ahead, nimbly, over a few rocks, onto a raised platform. He tried to make his way across a low-lying branch, connecting the platform with the top of another ruin with a flattened roof, tried to keep his balance, arms stretched out._

_His unwanted companion followed him._

_"Get off, it's going to break with you on, too," Essek chided without looking back._

_"Why won't you fight me?" Ivore asked, ignoring his warning.  
_

_"I don't want to. You'll get hurt."_

_"You don't think I'm good enough, just because I'm not the Shadowhand's favourite?"_

_The branch started breaking once they were both standing over the middle of the gorge._

_Essek swore under his breath, wove gravity magic around his fingers in the air, drawing out a sigil, then forcing back Ivore, but not in time to save himself from falling. He tumbled down, not very gracefully. As a kind of reflex, he threw up a shield, but it didn't do him any good against the hard rocks below. He groaned a little as he pushed himself up, feeling lightheaded. Then he blinked a few times, looked around him. It wasn't a very bad fall, but he was lying in water, only a few centimetres deep. It was murky, but moving. He scrambled to his feet, still feeling a little sore, but still in one piece, looked around him, eyes wide. Several other eyes opened as well. Spiders. Very, very, very large spiders. Larger than him, anyway. With so many eyes and legs he lost count._

_"Oh, Luxon."_

_He turned and ran._

_"Essek? You alright? Want me to throw a rope... Essek? Where are you going?!" His friend called from over the gorge, leaning over, trying to get a look down without falling over the side himself. His voice sounded frantic.  
_

_Like Essek's heart. The spiders chased him. He took the first turn he could, but it was down an even narrower tunnel._

_Another turn. _ _Suddenly an arrow flitted through the air past him. He couldn't be sure if whoever fired it was aiming for him or the spider, but he leapt out of the way, swearing._

_"What was that, Trynn?" He heard a voice say in Common. "More spiders." Some muttering he couldn't hear. A laugh._

_There was another flurry of arrows. Essek dove out of the way as the narrow cavern broke into a clearing. He hid behind a tree. _

_The spiders were two distracted by the arrows and handaxe which had just been flung their way to give him much thought._

_He seemed to have stumbled upon a group of adventurers, who started merrily hacking their way through his new friends._

_He closed his eyes, out of breath, legs tired from running. _ _He had gotten this far on adrenaline alone._

_He hoped his friends would be able to find him soon._

_The final spider gave a shrill cry as it fell wailing to the ground._

_One of their party gave a hearty laugh, drew out their axe, and leapt down. "I think that was the last of them!"  
_

_"Did you see something move over there?" Someone else said. Their voice was growing steadily louder, as they came closer.  
_

_He closed his eyes, silently mouthed a prayer to Luxon, and tried to hold his breath. _

_Then he heard_ _a branch break underfoot, much too close for comfort.  
_

_He bolted out from behind the tree, turned to face the human, immediately casting shield. _

_The human drew back, instinctively. _ _"Hello! We mean you no harm, friend! Are you injured?"_

_Essek hissed, taking a few more steps back. _ _He knew humans were dangerous. The worst kind of dangerous. They would smile to your face, then stab you in the back._

_This one was smiling._

_The human gave him a quizzical, sidelong look. _ _"Can you understand me?"_

_"I hear you, human," he threw back, curtly. He looked over the human's shoulder at his friends._

_They had not moved any closer, but they still had their weapons out, ready to defend their companion.  
_

_"I'm sorry if we've trespassed on your land, but we are simply travellers passing through these caverns. We come in peace."_

_He didn't think that likely. Humans only know how to destroy, and at least half his party looked human._

_"Are you from the Empire?" Essek asked. _ _The human shook his head. __"Good."_

_"Would you like some food? My friend over there is a cleric. They can take a look at your leg."_

_He narrowed his eyes, suspiciously, at the human, then back at his friends. Then he looked down at his leg. There was far more blood than he had imagined. Just seeing it made him feel dizzy, lightheaded. _

_He asked what they wanted in return, and they said 'nothing.' _ _One of their companions treated his wounds before he passed out. When he came to, they shared their food with him, and the warmth of their fire._

They're dangerous, _he reminded himself. _They'll smile to your face, and stab you in the back. The food is probably poisoned.

_But he ate it anyway, and lived. His strength eventually returned. _ _He thanked the adventurers and said goodbye, staggered his way through the tunnels, got lost. _ _When his friends found him, they were too relieved to ask who had bandaged his leg. He knew they wouldn't understand if he told them, if he tried to explain, so he didn't try. There were too many spiders standing between them and Rosohna to waste time talking.  
_

Essek jolted out of his trance. There was a knock on the door. His eyes widened. He went to answer it.

"Yes? What do you want?" He asked the messenger before him.

"The Shadowhand wants to see you."

"Oh?" He looked to his clock.

It was _extremely _early.

"About the human."

"Oh."

"He doesn't sound happy."

"Terrific," he closed his eyes, cleared his throat.

"Lead the way."

* * *

Caleb woke early, not wanting to keep the Bright Queen waiting. So he yawned, pushed back his tangled red hair, and got out of bed, still exhausted from last night's masquerade.

He looked down at his arms, balling his hands into fists, so the veins and muscle tensed against the flashes of green where the residuum beneath his skin could be seen. He could _feel_ the magic thrumming through his blood; a high few mages ever tasted.

The experiments made him stronger, but he knew he had to be careful, or else he would lose hold of it. Others had. The Assembly made examples of them. What happens to you when you're too weak. When you refuse to do what's necessary, what's required of you. When you break.

Trent was always a bastard, but Caleb didn't hate him for what he did to_ him. _He hated him for the way he treated others. The way he could so callously throw people away, once he'd used them up and bled them dry. The man was a vampire, and everyone praised him because he managed to accomplish 'the impossible' with his experiments, and because he had a band of deadly assassins on call he trained to be loyal, thoughtless.

_But I am not what he made me. I will never be what he made me,_ Caleb repeated the old mantra in his head when he opened his eyes, saw the crystals still glowing, gingerly ran a hand over them.

Why did they think sending a mage who had barely ever left the_ Assembly,_ let alone Rexxentrum, all the way to Rosohna was a good idea? They could not have expected him to assimilate so quickly. To spend the day talking, dancing, and drinking with locals. They may have been Beau's friends, not his, but still... he felt more included here than he had ever felt at home, where they made a point of segregating him from people his own age and outsiders, and always 'for his own good.'

He had even believed them, once, believed it really was 'for his own good.' But now he was beginning to think it was because Trent was afraid. Losing Astrid and Eodwulf had made him nervous. He put so much time and money and _effort_ into creating the perfect weapons, and two of them had broken. He was scared of losing Caleb the same way. It didn't help that he _knew _Caleb was sensitive, knew he cared too much about the people he worked with, even the people he killed. Knew how dangerous he would be if he went rogue. Maybe that's why he kept him close, kept him collared.

There was a knock on the door. He put some clothes on. More knocking. He ran some water through his hair, across his face. Considering shaving. It felt strange looking at his own face in a mirror. His body was just something to look after, to keep alive and in one piece, for their sake, but he knew it wasn't his. He knew he wasn't free. The freedom he thought he felt here was an illusion. He didn't really belong here.

He thought of the drow last night, as he dragged the blade of a razor along his jawline. He thought of the fireworks. Not like his fire, but nevertheless... beautiful, decorative, useless.

White hair, slanted, golden cats-eyes, which gleamed like amber. He felt still, now, cold. His heart rate was steady, his eyes glassy, dehydrated, nursing a headache, back sore from where he'd pushed him to the groud against those hard stones. He hadn't felt it then, hadn't felt anything, but the hands pulling him closer, closer. A racing heart. _His mouth against mine. _He rubbed at his neck, where he'd felt the edge of his teeth. Nothing, no marks. He'd been careful. Caleb almost wished there were. At least then he would have some evidence, however slim, that last night had really happened, and it wasn't all just a dream.

The knocking had grown steadily more irate. He lifted his head, shaken. Went to open the door. Beau was waiting outside. He let her in.

"What have you found?" He asked the moment the door closed behind her.

"Not a lot. The Assembly sends its regards. There's going to be a military demonstration in a few days. They want you to be there."

He grimaced, nodded. She shoved a hot drink in his hands. He drank it absently. His thoughts were somewhere else.

"What about our friend from last night? Have you learned who he is?"

"The mage? I made a list of possible targets that match his description, but... there are over fifty names, Caleb. Are you sure he's worth the trouble?"

Caleb lifted a hand to his temples, shook his head. The short answer was: _No._ He knew this was ridiculous, searching for someone who did not want to be found, but... he needed closure. He wanted to ask him why he'd been drawn to him like a magnet, why kissing him felt like deja vu, why he'd stolen all the air from his lungs and run.

He wet his lips, still avoiding her eyes, still trying to prepare any argument which would justify his interest in this mage, before eventually deciding he couldn't explain it, either. Maybe it was just loneliness. Maybe she was right.

"I know it's stupid, but... I need to see him again. I can't stop playing last night over in my head, and thinking of all the things I _should_ have said, _should _have done..." 

Beau nodded sympathetically. "Jester thinks you should wait for him to make the first move. He's the one who ran out on you."

"I still can't believe you told _Jester,"_ he said, wincing. She was sweet, sure, but they barely knew her. They shouldn't be telling her all their secrets.

Beau shrugged, smiling innocently. "Sorry, man! I didn't realise your crush was such a big secret. I saw you two dancing. Looked pretty obvious to me."

"Wait. You saw us dancing. You knew what to look for this entire time, and you still made me describe him?!"

"Hey, it was fun getting to see you act like a human being for once! I didn't think you had it in you."

"We all make mistakes," he responded dully, scratching his ear. 

"I meant _emotions,_ I didn't know you were capable of emotions!"

"Yes, well... this is new to me, too. I'm used to being on my own. They... they think it's better to keep me on my own."

"..._How_ new? This feels like relevant information. When was the last time you went on a date?"

"Where nobody died?"

"Ideally."

"I've never been on a date."

"Why were you kept alone? Were you dangerous?_ Are_ you dangerous?!"

The prospect seemed to excite her. She certainly didn't look _afraid._

"Anyone with magic can be dangerous."

"I meant_ you_ in particular."

"I am... particularly dangerous, yes. But not because of... not because of anything I did. I never did anything. They were just afraid of what I _might_ do, if I didn't learn to... to f-focus my power, and that meant keeping me away from anything which might make me lose focus."

"Like hot drow. Got you."

"No, I don't think you do..."

"When's the last time you had sex?"

"I haven't exactly been counting the days!"

"I'll take an estimate. Couple of weeks, months...?"

"A few years, maybe."

_"Years!"_

"I wasn't allowed to go out, where was I supposed to meet people?"

"Still. _Years._ Wow. No wonder you jumped the first person who smiled at you."

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't jump him! If anything, _he _jumped _me."_

"Yeah, about that. It doesn't strike you as... suspicious, at all?"

"Suspicious?"

"Good-looking guy, belongs to a Den, does alright for himself. Why should he be interested in _you?"_

"Why shouldn't he be interested in me?!" It was at least _feasible _that someone could be attracted to him, wasn't it?

"I'm just saying, it makes sense if you've been under lock and key for ten years that you'd fall in love with just about anyone, but _him...?_ I doubt he gets lonely, looking the way he does. And he had that room just... ready, wine and food, ready. Doesn't that set off any red flags?"

"If he _wanted _to murder me, he had plenty of chances. He didn't take them."

"Of course he wasn't going to murder you, idiot! He was trying to seduce you for information!"

Caleb scoffed. It was a ridiculous assertion. She'd read too many spy novels. Maybe he _had_ been behaving suspiciously, but... Caleb had enjoyed it too much to question it in the moment. He'd never had anyone be so kind to him before. And it was that kindness, really, which threw him. It felt like kindness, dancing with him, rescuing him when he got anxious from that party, holding him close, kissing him until he couldn't think.

He wasn't used to kindness. He hadn't been inoculated against it. Astrid and Eodwulf had loved him, in their way, but there was nothing kind about them, or their love. There was nothing gentle. His elf was... gentle,_ kind._ When Caleb spoke, he really listened... or seemed to, anyway. When he was afraid he took his hand, and he stopped being afraid. He didn't realise something so simple, so stupid, as letting someone hold your hand could make you stop being afraid. He had missed out on something major, here, a lesson he had never learned.

When someone holds your hand, sometimes a light goes off in your head and you stop being afraid. When they take you by the neck, and kiss you, you go soft, like a cat grasped by its mothers teeth at the neck. And it's nice. It's not weakness. It's a kind of strength. Last night, going to the tavern with Beau and Jester, was nice for much the same reason. He couldn't remember the names of the people he met, or what they had talked about, but it was nice, just being with people. Usually he hated crowds, but when you're with the right people, a light goes off, and you stop being afraid.

"It felt like he meant it when he kissed me," he replied, knowing how naive that made him sound. "But maybe you're right, maybe he had an ulterior motive. He knew I was a mage. He knew I was the Ambassador."

"You were the only human in the room. You were kind of hard to miss," she pointed out, then added, more gently: "Look, I'll find this guy for you, and maybe we'll find out this was all just one big misunderstanding, but... don't get your hopes up, okay?"

"I'm not a hopeful guy, Beauregard."

"I noticed. Which is why I really, _really_ hope this guy isn't playing you. It sounds like you've had enough darkness in your life. It's about time something went right."

"My life hasn't been _that_ dark, Beauregard. I lost my family, sure, and my friends, and I was..."

"Tortured by your mentor and left alone in a scary old building for ten years?"

_"Maybe,_ but... things seem to be going pretty well, now? I'm closer than I've ever been to achieving my goal. I can't afford to fuck that up."

She reached out and took hold of his shoulders, looked him in the eyes. "But_ is it_ your goal, or is it just the thing _they've_ _told you_ you wanted ever since you were a child?"

"All I've ever wanted was to be a better mage and serve the Empire. This way, I can do both."

It was the truth, but Beauregard did not look convinced.

It was the truth, wasn't it?

* * *

He had been to the Bright Queen's throne room once before, but not while the entire royal council was in attendance. He did not like how it felt to have nearly a hundred eyes watch him, as he glided out into the light before the Bright Queen. She gazed down at him, expectantly. He introduced himself as Archmage Caleb Widogast, an Ambassador from the Empire, in case she had forgotten, and gave a short bow. He complimented her on the recent festival, the magnificence of her chambers and the proceedings, and how grateful he was for the hospitality she had shown him. Then he requested access to the Marbled Tomes Conservatory. The Empire had so much to learn about the Dynasty, and the sharing of information might make the public more sympathetic. The animosity which had so long existed between their people was caused, he asserted, by the fact the Dynasty had always been veiled in mystery.

"Our historian, Skysybill Mirrim, may be of some assistance to you." She indicated an elderly goblin woman to her right. "If you wish to know more of the Luxon and its worship, you would be better off speaking to one of our priests. As for the Conservatory... that is under the domain of Den Thelyss. They may offer limited access to the premises, but only under the supervision of one of their representatives. Perhaps..." She scanned the room. "Essek Thelyss, apprentice to the Shadowhand." She indicated a drow with bright eyes, a coif of white hair styled to one side, and a long dark mantle.

"My Queen?"

"Could you give the Ambassador a brief tour of the Conservatory?"

He rose from his chair, gave a short bow.

His feet didn't touch the ground.

"As you wish, my liege."

His eyes widened. There was no mistaking that voice.

The masked drow had lost his mask, and was avoiding his gaze, and trying his hardest to disappear, although nearly every eye in that room was trained on him, could not _help _but be trained on him.

_Essek Thelyss, apprentice to the Shadowhand_. Part of the Bright Queen's Council, and one of the three foremost dens in Xhorhas.

He finally lifted his head as their meeting drew to a close and cast a fleeting glance in Caleb's direction, but if he felt anything at all, joy or fear or surprise or... _anything_, it didn't show on his face.

He was still too beautiful for words, a work of art, something carved from marble, deserving of worship. And he'd kissed him, beneath the stars, illuminated by fireworks, with so much fire, so much abandon, it made him tremble, just remembering it.

His gaze flitted back to the Bright Queen, but Caleb kept staring at him, kept willing him to look back.

As Essek rose, so did Caleb. Essek glided over to his Queen, bowed low.

They exchanged a few words as the rest of the assembly dispersed, and emptied out the throne room of everyone but the Queen's own guards and them.

Whatever he had asked the Bright Queen, he looked disappointed by the answer. She shot Caleb a smile and bid him good-bye.

"Come with me," Essek said in a clipped tone. He was already gliding towards the door. Caleb quickly followed.

He didn't say a word as he led him through, and outside of, the Bastion. He had no need to say a word to the guards, either. They parted for him.

When Caleb could take it no longer, he finally broke the silence. "Are we going to talk about what happened last night?"

Essek Thelyss was trying too hard to avoid his gaze not to be avoiding it on purpose.

"Did you enjoy the masquerade? We don't often have guests from the Empire."

"You know what I mean. I wasn't drunk enough to forget _you."_

"So you saw me there? How nice," he replied in monotone.

"You didn't have to kiss me."

Essek stopped abruptly in his tracks, then turned to face him with a sombre look.

"Please don't remind me. You may have been sober, but I am not myself when I am drinking. I am sorry if I did or said anything to offend you, but I think... the less said about last night the better." He forced a polite smile, but it didn't take the edge off his expression.

"Do you often kiss strangers when you've been drinking, then?" Caleb asked.

He snorted, shook his head, already marching forward confidently.

"No, never. You don't get where I am by being careless."

But he _had_ been careless last night. He wasn't mad at Caleb, he was mad at _himself.__  
_

"...So I'm the first?" He couldn't help smiling. It wasn't much of a compliment, but he'd take it.

Essek rolled his eyes, didn't look back. "Don't flatter yourself."

They kept walking. To fill the silence, Essek started giving him the customary tour of the city.

"So if you're not the man I danced with last night... who are you, really?" Caleb asked, interrupting Essek's prepared speech about local wildlife. He got tongue-tied at first, but eventually found his voice.

"Essek Thelyss, of Den Thelyss. I am apprenticed to the Shadowhand. An arcanist, like yourself, among other things..."

"And who were you yesterday?"

Essek gave a heavy sigh, brought a hand up to his temples. He should have expected this.

"It was only a game, but... I suppose, in retrospect, it was a cruel game... though I meant no harm by it! I never imagined... I didn't plan for you." He looked plaintively to Caleb for a moment, then looked away when he realised he'd find no sympathy there. "The man you met yesterday was... a character from a stock play. It was... a childish idea, really, but I... I wanted to pretend, for one day, that I was _not _Essek Thelyss, and I had no responsibilities, no Den to impress, no family to dishonour, no nation to defend..."

"And no name," Caleb supplied, nodding faintly as he did the math. He was trying to understand. It just wasn't easy._  
_

_"Exactly!_ That's the point! As soon as I removed my mask, or said my name, the magic would be gone, the spell would be broken, and everything would go back to the way it was before, and I... I didn't want that."

Caleb didn't like the thought of being used for the sake of some game_.'_Yet everything he said last night had sounded so sincere. He wanted to believe him. He _still _wanted to believe him. Which was mad, wasn't it?

"You know, I really thought I knew you when you talked about growing up in the countryside, and how much you loved magic, but... I suppose I was wrong."

"I suppose you were," Essek answered curtly. Caleb had clearly struck a nerve. He was pushing too much.

_He wants you to leave it. Change the subject. Stop pestering him. _

"If I got you drunk, would you kiss me again?" Caleb asked instead, tilting his head to one side and smiling innocently.

That got him. His jaw actually dropped.

Thankfully, the door to the Conservatory opened and several people swarmed out just in time.

Essek glided purposefully into the Conservatory. Caleb soon caught up with him.

* * *

He was given a brief tour of the Conservatory, before being led to the section of the library Essek thought would serve best his research into the Dynasty's history, culture, and religion. Essek had to remain with him the entire time, keeping a watchful eye, as a representative of Den Thelyss. It must have been dull work, watching Caleb pour, excitedly, over dusty old tomes, while he looked on, patiently, hands clasped behind his back, hovering to the side, but Caleb had never encountered anything like the Conservatory before. The Academy had a magnificent library, of course, but they would never allow books such as these to fall into just anyone's hands.

"I am afraid you will have to leave soon," Essek said after two hours had passed. "Perhaps if there is some answer in particular you were looking for, I could assist you?"

"I still want to know more about your people. We know so little, back home..."

"Why am I not surprised?" He remarked with a cruel smile.

Another subtle jibe at the Empire, and its unwillingness to share information with the general public? Or was he having a go at Caleb's curiousity for all things Xhorhassian? Either way, he should have felt insulted. He didn't feel particularly insulted.

"Can anyone learn dunamancy?" Caleb asked, as he finished skimming the book in front of him, and stood up to return it to its shelf.

Essek laughed. "Not anyone, no! It is an extremely difficult discipline to master. You are not merely weaving the elements, but the fabric of time, space, and gravity, itself. Few have the potential to do such things."

Caleb nodded. "Yes, of course, I... I should have guessed that. But_ you_ have mastered it, yes?"

"I have devoted my life to its study," he answered, simply. "I would not be where I am today if I had not."

"Right. Is it important for your work?"

"It is... essential."

Working for the Shadowhand meant... he was a spy, right? But a spy who had the power to slow, speed up, or stop time, and shift gravity. It sounded fascinating. Caleb wanted to know more, but he didn't want to seem too interested. So he changed the subject, kept the ball rolling.

"What about consecution? How are the beacons involved, and what is its purpose? Does it hurt?" 

Essek took a deep breath, considered how best to answer this sudden flurry of questions.

"With each life we work to improve ourselves, and move a step closer towards _'umavi,'_ perfection." A pause. "And no, it does not hurt to bind one's soul to a beacon. You are left with... a marking, which burns a little, at first, but that is all. I am consecuted myself, I can speak from experience."

"How many lives have you had?" Caleb asked, cocking his head to one side.

"This is my first. It is exceptionally rare for Den Theylss to accept one so young as myself, I consider it a great honour."

That same soft smile he had glimpsed once before, only this time he diverted his eyes, looking almost demure.

"How do they choose who gets consecuted?"

"We earn it, as we earn a place in our Dens, through our service to the Bright Queen. Nothing is free, here. Everything must be earned."

Caleb nodded slowly, looking him up and down. "Hypothetically speaking, what would an emissary from the Empire need to do to earn the approval of the Shadowhand's apprentice?"

Essek opened his mouth, but it took him a moment to find his voice: "You would do better to concern yourself with earning the _Dynasty's_ approval, if you ever wish to see these books again, Ambassador."

He didn't like the thought of saying goodbye to that library for good. The knowledge it offered was too tantalizing.

"Can't we come back? Tomorrow, or the next day?"

Essek shook his head.

"With respect, I am _extremely _busy, I can't waste all of my time here, with you. If your Empire wants to know more, they will have to wait."

"No library, _right._ Maybe we could talk somewhere else? Over dinner? You still eat, don't you? Or are you too busy for that?" He was incorrigible. He knew he was incorrigible. It was one of his only virtues.

"Are all humans so... persistent?" Essek countered, sincerely baffled by how stubbornly Caleb refused to accept rejection.

"It was a good kiss," Caleb responded with a shrug, lowering his eyes. "And you're very attractive, Herr Thelyss."

"So I've been told."

_He knows. Of course he knows. No wonder he's so smug. Attractive young prodigy, newly consecuted, who worked his way up to earn a place in the Bright Queen's throne room. You don't meet people like that every day._

"I just want to be friends. I enjoyed talking to you the other night. I thought... maybe we could pick up where we left off."

They had left off with Essek's arms around his neck. But he meant the conversation. Of course he meant the conversation.

Essek arched a brow, considering him for a long moment, frowning slightly.

"You are of the Empire, and I am of the Dynasty. I don't see how we could possibly become friends." 

"It's not that hard!" Caleb insisted, taking the lead. "I'll go first. I've never seen the sea before."

Essek looked more confused than ever. But he _was _looking at him, so Caleb counted it a win.

"Now you tell me something. This is called 'getting to know each other.' It's a trust game."

"I don't think I'd be any good at such games..."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"My... what? Oh, gold."

"Like your eyes?"

"Hm?"

"They're amazing."

"This isn't... I don't like this."

"Which season do you prefer?"

"Spring."

"See! You're a natural."

"Am I?"

They were already halfway down the stairs.

"How long have you been studying dunamancy?"

"All my life. It's all I have. All I am," he answered quietly.

"You will have to show me one day. A practical demonstration."

Essek hovered, absently, as they made their way back to the Lucid Bastion.

"Good night. Take care," Caleb said, before they parted ways. He extended his hand.

Essek simply looked at it for a long moment, perplexed.

"It's an Empire tradition," he explained.

Essek nodded, extended his hand cautiously. Caleb shook it.

Then he pulled his hand back, abruptly, as if he'd been burned.

"I... oh. How strange humans are," he mumbled distantly. "Luxon be with you."

When Caleb got home that evening he left a note under Beauregard's door which read: _I've found him._


	3. Do You Want To Stop?

_"Why did you follow this human all night? Steal him away from the others? You were only supposed to observe him!" _

_I was using my initiative. He must be a spy! None of our contacts in the Empire have heard of him.  
_

_"He's just another human who wandered unsuspecting into the lion's den. No one with any sense would give him the information he seeks. No one with any sense would get so damn close to him." _

The words still scalded him, like salt in an open wound. He had worked so hard to get where he was, to be accepted by his Den, to earn a place in the Shadowhand's service. He hated how unstable that position seemed, now. There were too many contenders vying for his spot as the Shadowhand's second. 

_I can make him trust me, all I need is more time! I can _ _find out who orchestrated the attack on Asarius, how they knew our fortresses would be undefended... he may even lead us to the mole, if there is one.  
_

_"If you want to get in bed with the enemy be my guest, but don't pretend it's for the good of the Dynasty. The Ambassaor is _ _nothing more than a pawn. You're wasting your time and mine chasing this lead. _ _If there is, as you expect, a traitor among our people... we will find them ourselves, our way. __I sometimes wonder whether or not you're cut __ out for this life, Essek. You suspect your friends and are too quick to trust strangers. You spend a few hours with this man, and suddenly you're willing to stake your reputation, and our future, on his abilities? The less he knows the better."_

"The Shadowhand was called away this morning. In his absence,_ I_ will give you orders," the Bright Queen explained when Essek was shown into her private study flanked by two bodyguards.

"Yes, your majesty," Essek answered, head bowed.

She had apparently read his notes in the Shadowhand's absence. That was flattering. The Shadowhand had not.

"I think you are right to doubt the Ambassador. Find out where his loyalties truly lie. Test him."

"How do you wish me to test him, your highness?" He asked, cocking his head to one side.

"He is too interested in our magic. Offer him spells, and see how he responds."

"Surely he would know it's a trap?"

"Not if you ask for something in return."

"Such as..?"

"Spells."

"Yes. Spells. Of course."

That had not been his first thought, but thankfully Leylas Kryn was handling this negotiation, not him.

* * *

"Would you still like that practical demonstration?" Essek asked, when he managed to corner Caleb at the military parade he had been forced to attend. When he smiled, Caleb caught the barest glimpse of fangs. It made his heart beat uneven.

_"What?" _He asked, voice muffled by a canape that had gotten stuck between his teeth. He picked at it with his fingers. There was no convincing anyone he was a born noble, but it seemed to amuse Essek, whose smile grew wider.

"You said you wanted to see what our magic is capable of. My Queen suggested I show you. She thinks it would benefit both our people, if we were more familiar with our respective nations... _unique_ approach to magic."

Caleb blinked a few times, looking Essek over. Dark ceremonial robes, white hair brushed back, away from eyes that seemed almost to glow.

The Queen suggesting Essek show him Dynasty magic sounded too good to be true. And things which sound too good to be true... usually are.

"...No, I still don't know what you're asking."

"Would you like to train with me, Caleb Widogast?" He asked instead, smiling warmly.

Before Caleb had time to logically weigh the pros and cons of walking into what was, in all likelihood, a trap, he had already said _'yes.'_

When another guest approached, Essek took his leave of Caleb with a polite bow. This guest turned out to be another mage. He wore dark armoured robes inlaid with emeralds.

"I saw you dancing with our favourite prodigy the other night," he observed casually, after Essek had moved out of earshot. His eye followed him cautiously, before turning to Caleb with a fixed smile. "Essek is... young and reckless. He wanted to cause a stir by being seen with you. It would not be wise to... pin any hopes to that particular mast, Ambassador."

"If you're implying there is anything going on between us, you are mistaken, Sir...?"

"Lytheer of Den Olios." He seemed to be looking through him, now. As if he could tell he was lying. Only he wasn't lying, not really. Nothing _had _happened. Or if it had... he had ruined all chance of it ever happening again. "You left together. The servants saw you."

"It was loud in the ballroom. We wanted to talk. He thought I'd feel left out, so he wanted to familiarise me with Dynasty traditions."

"I am sure he did." A forced smile which was razor sharp. Blue tattoos ringed his left eye, that blended into the blue tones of his dark skin. He lowered his voice. "Be careful, Ambassador. Between you and me... I think he's dangerous. He won't stop until he gets what he wants."

"Why should I care what he wants?" Caleb asked, backing away the moment Lytheer stepped closer.

"Because he wants power, immortality, and for reasons I can't begin to fathom... _you."_

No one had talked to him about the masquerade, or Essek, besides Beau and Jester. Essek was still a minor player in Court. It was only the Shadowhand's absence which made his name gain circulation. Caleb didn't take Lytheer's warnings to heart. He wasn't interested in the petty rivalries of nobles. Lady Olios thankfully took that opportunity to introduce herself. She extended a lavender hand, which Caleb kissed. She was remarkably beautiful. She had lived several lives and was full of interesting stories. He wanted to stay for her sake, but when he scanned the courtyard and noticed Essek's absence, he made an excuse to leave.

* * *

A letter arrived later that afternoon with directions to a house not far from the Bastion where they might train uninterrupted. He went to the address, and eventually found the house he sought by green lantern light. He knocked on the door three times, and was shown in by a young drow.

_"Herr Widogast?"_ She asked. When he nodded confirmation, she let him in. For a few moments she simply stared at him, wide-eyed, as he undid his scarf, pulled free his gloves.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I've never seen a human before."

He smiled at her. "Don't worry. _I _don't bite. I wish I could say the same about the rest of my countrymen."

Essek strode in a few minutes later, fashionably late and confident as ever. He thanked the girl than led Caleb into the next room. It was much larger, with towering windows. It looked haunted, like everywhere else in Xhorhas. It might have once been beautiful. Now it resembled a abandoned warehouse.

"What is this place?" Caleb asked.

"Forgotten. But I like training here. It's peaceful, in its way... and no one notices if you set fire to the curtains."

It was warm inside. Caleb took off his coat, threw it over the crest of a dusty chair. Then he took his spellbook out from his holster, making himself at home. Essek watched from a safe distance, hands crossed behind his back.

Caleb raised his chin, shot Essek a cursory glance. "So how do you want to do this? I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

Essek snapped his fingers and a spellbook appeared in his hand.

"Let me see what you can do first."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I'd like to see you try," he shot back with a devilish smile. He sounded so cocky Caleb almost wanted to knock him down a peg just to hear his voice hitch with surprise. Anything to shatter that stern, icy exterior.

The first spells were simple cantrips, easy to dodge or deflect, just to find their rhythm. Essek wanted to make sure Caleb could keep up before he threw anything stronger at him. Then Caleb got reckless. After getting hit by a series of magic missiles he grabbed hold of Essek's arm and used vampiric touch to heal his own wound by drawing energy from Essek. He swore under his breath, the unexpected nekrotic damage leaving him shaken, before he suddenly passed out of his hand like a ghost and blinked away. Once farther out, Essek took a piece of charcoal from his robes and scrawled some runes, then sliced through the air. A shadow spilled out from the breach he had carved and came to life beside him, a dark, shadowy copy of Essek. Caleb was so distracted by the sudden, unexpected appearance of a copy he didn't notice the original launch a surprise attack.

Caleb lost his footing as the full force of a lightning bolt crashed into him. Essek had cast it at the lowest level he possibly could, but the electrical damage had a kickback effect, and wouldn't let go. Seeing his distress, Essek raced forward, tried to catch his flailing arms with his hands. The residual electricity which refused to let go bit at him, too, when he tried to grab the wizard and pull him aside. Once the residual magic gave out, Essek dropped to the floor, took out a health potion, freed the stop, and fed it to Caleb before he could protest. He drank it, coughing as Essek drew the bottle away. He dabbed at the blood on Caleb's face with his thumb, gently.

"Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, Caleb, I wasn't thinking... are you alright? Please be alright..."

Essek was fretting, now. There was no other word for it. He sounded almost frantic. Caleb kept coughing.

"Don't worry, I've had worse..." he muttered hoarsely, still winded. Essek was holding onto his arms, now. He drew Caleb's back close to his chest, held him. Warmth spread through him. He couldn't tell if it was a side effect of the potion, or Essek. He closed his eyes and leaned into that warmth, and Essek.

"I forget my own strength, sometimes," he admitted.

"We all make mistakes." Caleb lightly patted Essek's arm, hoping to comfort him. Instead, Essek tensed up, only just beginning to take stock of the precarious way they'd entangled themselves on the floor. When Caleb stopped shaking and met his eyes, Essek let go of his arms and moved back. 

"Better?" Essek asked once Caleb had dusted himself off, and found his way back to his feet.

He nodded _yes._

"Do you want to stop?"

He shook his head _no._

"Demonstrate the strongest spell you have at your disposal on my Echo," Essek instructed, knowing the illusion would dodge any attack thrown at it.

Caleb took out his components, focused his magic, then wove a web of fire across the floor of the empty room, with its vaulted ceiling and overturned furniture, that crackled to life beautifully. The Echo tried to dodge the tendril of flames extending towards it, but got caught in the web and was set alight. Caleb trembled a little, more shaken by the sight of Essek's likeness going up in smoke before collapsing out of life than he thought he would be. 

_"Impressive!"_ Essek purred, admiring his handiwork. "Why don't I show you some tricks of my own? They may be useful to you."

Caleb turned to see Essek holding out his spellbook. His head was tilted to one side and he was smiling broadly. Caleb edged closer, as Essek walked him through the steps, one by one.

_I'm learning dunamancy. This is what I came for. He's not important. He's just another spy. He'll get me killed._

"Here, like this," Essek instructed as he took hold of Caleb's arm and glided it forward. Then he ran the other hand along his spine, gingerly, correcting his posture. Caleb was so tense the sudden contact nearly made him jump. _"Relax,"_ Essek insisted, but it was impossible to relax with Essek's hands on him.

Their sparring resumed. It was exhilarating. All the usual excitement of combat, but with the added bonus of knowing_, trusting,_ that it would stop at a word. But they were both fighting with one hand tied behind their back. Caleb tried to imagine what the full force of Essek's magic could do to him. The prospect was terrifying. But he wanted it. He wanted that rush. He was enjoying this more than he should. He was actually having _fun_.

_He's a monster. Everyone says the Kryn are monsters. You're not allowed to enjoy this, to like the way he looks at you, even when he's digging a knee into your ribcage and pinning you down._

He was pinning him down. Why was he...? Oh. Caleb turned his head and saw in his hand the ritual knife he needed to complete his spell. He was trying to disarm him. Caleb had already dropped his components when he fell, and Essek knocked the breath out of him.

"What was that for?!" Caleb huffed as Essek took up the knife before pulling away. He extended a hand to help lift Caleb off the ground, then returned his weapon. He was stronger than he looked. Caleb wasn't sure what to do with this information, but it left him tongue-tied.

"It is all very well to stand back and throw fireballs, but you must also learn how to defend yourself from melee attacks. An attacker need only have a passing familiarity with components to completely disarm a wizard. That is why it is essential to guard against their loss."

"I will... keep that in mind," Caleb managed, still breathless. He could tell Essek was holding back on purpose. He didn't want to hurt him. He was teaching him these spells to make him stronger. To keep him safe.

_Because the Queen asked him to,_ he reminded himself. But the way he looked at him, the way he seized every opportunity which presented itself to move closer or reach for him, seemed... intentional. Had the Bright Queen asked him to do that? To take such care? To be so gentle?

Essek abruptly turned from him, headed for the door, called for his young assistant. She put down her book and immediately raced to his side.

"Show Herr Widogast to the Lucid Bastion. Stop by the healer on your way there." He dropped a few coins into her outstretched hand. "Pay what she asks, and keep the change." The girl mumbled a quick thanks and headed for the door.

"Will we meet again, Herr Theylss?" Caleb asked, lingering behind.

Essek shrugged with his usual air of proud indifference.

"Another training session can be arranged. I would like to see more of your spells."

_My spells, not me,_ Caleb reminded himself, but it didn't do him any good. _Beau's right. I'm just desperate. I've been alone for so long I think there's anything romantic about getting beaten up._

But it wasn't getting beat up he remembered as he walked home, under the watchful gaze of two moons and a thousand stars. It was the way Essek picked him up, brushed the blood off his face, and looked into his eyes, like he actually fucking _mattered._

_Archeart preserve me._ He could still taste the blood in his mouth, like burnt copper. 

* * *

"How do you feel about breaking and entering?" Dairon asked, seated at the small deal table in his bedroom. I

Beau was leaning up against a wall, as per usual, grinning inanely, arms crossed.

"I thought that was more your line?" Caleb countered.

"If you'd rather wait around, being useless, until we need someone killed, by all means..."

"Oh no, I love breaking and entering!" He had very little experience with burgling, but it sounded easier than murder. The stakes weren't as high.

_"Good!" _Dairon exclaimed as they moved to their feet. "Don't worry, Widogast. You'll have help. I'll contact you once everything's arranged."

Business concluded, Dairon headed for the door. His handler didn't believe in wasting time.

_"Auf Wiedersehen!"_ Caleb chimed before collapsing onto the bed. Beau perched beside him, and Frumpkin meowed loudly before leaping up to join them. He padded his way over Caleb stomach until he stood on his chest, a heavy paperweight pinning him where he lay. Caleb ran a hand across his spine and tail gingerly. The purring quieted his nerves.

"So! How'd your date with the wizard go?" Beau asked, leaning in, confidentally.

"It wasn't a date. I went through six health potions."

"That sounds like a typical date to me."

Caleb sighed.

"This is usually the part where I leave, but since you're in _my _room..."

"Have you kissed him yet?"

"Not since the ball, no, but... I think he likes me? He's just so damn _careful_ about everything. Like he's afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Of me, I guess." A nervous laugh. "One minute he's trying to get close to me, the next... he's pushing me away. I don't know what it means."

Beau nodded, sympathetically. "Have you tried asking him?"

Caleb scoffed. "No, of course not!"

"Maybe you should." It was a reasonable suggestion, but he hated it. 

"You're an _Expositor, _Beauregard! Can't you just... break into his room and steal his diary?" He groaned, burying his head in a pillow. Beau gave him a gentle pat.

"Not unless you pay me."

* * *

There first foray into breaking and entering was in the vaults below the Lucid Bastion. Dairon had enlisted the aid of a goblin named 'Nott the Brave,' an alchemist by day and rogue by night, to break locks and disable any traps they encountered along the way.

"What do you think Dairon's after?" Caleb asked, as Nott expertly picked open a few chests and divulged them of their treasure.

"No idea. I'm more worried about what your people are after," Beau replied evenly.

"We were both sent by the Empire, Beauregard, we have the same people."

"I'm working for the Soul, not the Assembly. It's different. We're different."

"You mean better?" Caleb clarified.

"That goes without saying! We don't pick fights with entire nations. We're not trying to start a war."

"Neither is the Assembly."

She shot him a stern look, unconvinced.

"Are you sure about that?"

That shut him up.

Nott raced forward, tugged at his coat-tails.

"Identify these!" She instructed before dumping a pile of trinkets at his feet.

Beau, standing guard with nothing better to do, watched him count and file away the pile into smaller piles by type and size.

"We miss you down in the Gallimaufrey," Beau said as Caleb sorted, wanting to fill the silence. "I made some new friends. Carnival folk, passing through Rosohna. Just your speed."  
  
"Just what this city needs! More actors," Caleb replied without looking up from his work.

"Bet you'd like the tiefling. He tells fortunes."

"Why should I be interested in your fortune teller? They're all charlatans."

"Maybe so, but this one's _purple." _She somehow managed to make the most innocuous words sound suggestive.

"I don't like Essek because he's _purple,"_ Caleb shot back. He had a pretty good idea where this was going. 

"Don't try to tell me it's because of his sterling personality!" She said, choking back a laugh.

"He's... intelligent, and charming, and... fun, when he's not trying to impress nobles. Why do you like Jester?"

"She's sweet. She makes me laugh. We like spending time together. I don't know. Does it have to be more serious than that?"

"Sounds pretty serious to me. Just keep your mind on your work, okay? We're here for a reason."

"Yeah, about that. Has anyone actually told you _why_ we're here? I know, 'to look for artifacts,' but they could send anyone to do that! I want to know why they sent _you."_

Caleb raised a hand to his temple, half-inspecting a pendant. "I get it, you don't like me."

"Why would they send an assassin to do reconnaissance?"

Caleb turned to face her, letting his hand fall onto the table. "Do you want to identify all of this?"

"Yes, I know you're very good at finding magic, but any mage can do that! You're a government trained assassin, and you've been sent to infiltrate the royal court of a rival nation... this can't be their endgame! Either you're being punished for something, or you were sent here to assassinate the Bright Queen."

Caleb shot her a skeptical look. They would hardly send an amateur to assassinate a queen. Nott dropped a small telescope to the ground with a loud clatter.

"You're not really going to kill the Bright Queen, are you?!" The goblin asked, hurriedly racing to Caleb's side.

"No, of course not. Beau's read too many cheap spy novels. Why?" He asked. Her sudden interest had sparked his own.

"I need to win her favour so I can pardon my husband," she explained, sounding so sincere he could not help feeling sorry for her.

"Nothing is free in Rosohna. Where are they keeping your husband?" He asked, gently.

"In the Dungeon of Penance. They think he's helping the Empire, but he doesn't care about politics! He only helped them under threat of death, to protect our son!"

"Who threatened your son?"

"Scourgers."

He frowned, patted the goblin's hand, and shot Beau a long look.

She already had her arms crossed, brows raised. She couldn't wait to hear him talk his way out of this.

"What did these Scourgers want with your husband?" He asked Nott, but continued to hold Beau's gaze as he spoke.

"They said they wanted a vial of dunamis. They never told us why they wanted it, or what it could do! If it _is_ a weapon, no one told us—!"

"It is_ not_ a weapon," he assured her.

"What is it, then?" Beau asked, but he had already forgotten all about the vial of dunamis. 

He was staring down at his pile of lost treasures, distracted. His eye had caught on an object that still managed to reflect the light of their torches despite a thick veil of dust and gleam. He brushed it off, recognising the object at once. He had already seen its twin.

"This is a communication mirror. I've seen one just like it in Ludinus Da'leth's study."

"Wait, slow down. We found a magic mirror?" Beau asked, interest spiking.

He noticed a letter nearby and carefully unfolded the parchment. It was written in Undercommon, but he recognised the Shadowhand's name before he had finished casting comprehend languages.

_"Arictav ru mier,"_ he murmurred, holding the mirror out in front of him. Beau raced to his side. He saw reflected in it the empty study of Ludinus.

"I was right, look! This is the Cerberus Assembly, Beauregard!"

"So someone in the Dynasty's been using this mirror to keep tabs on your supervisor?"

"They may have used this mirror to talk to him. It goes both ways—if we could hear and see him, he could hear and see us. But such mirrors only work if they have been activated and attuned on both sides."

"Which means...?"

"Ludinus had a direct line to Rosohna for... who knows how long, and never told me. Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Maybe it slipped his mind?"

"Either you're right, or there's a traitor in Xhorhas."

Beau was still a little staggered by the leap Caleb had just made between premise and conclusion.

"Why should we care if there's a mole in the Dynasty who wants to do our job for us?"

"We should care... because that means the Empire is lying to us, too," Caleb explained, ending the spell which activated the mirror and lowering it onto the table.

"Fuck you," Beau snapped, her voice flat, eyes wide as saucers.

_"Beau—"_

"I don't like being lied to either, but if we don't finish this assignment I'll never get another chance to prove myself to the Cobalt Soul! I might lose my job trying to save your ass!"

"What are you saving me from...?" Caleb asked, genuinely confused. He wasn't sure what he had said or done to upset her this time.

"This is_ treason,_ Caleb!" She snapped in a high-pitched whisper.

A door closed, loudly, on the platform above them. All three of them looked up in unison. It was far enough away they could not have been overheard, but if they lingered any longer, they might be discovered.

"Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else?" Nott suggested, shoveling as many gold coins, gems, and trinkets as her hands could carry into her bag, and scurrying for the exit. 

Beau and Caleb raced after her, Beau eventually scooping the goblin in her arm as they headed for the servants' stairwell. Beau shifted back into her drow form with the aid of an enchanted ring, and Caleb polymorphed himself into a cat. As soon as they got to the top of the staircase and Beau opened the door, Caleb raced out on all fours and sped down a series of now towering corridors until he eventually found Dairon's room. He meowed and pawed at the door until the elf let him in. Beau and Nott were not far behind.

"Close call?" Dairon asked, picking up the ginger cat and scritching him under the chin. He meowed forlornly. "I think I like you better this way." Caleb stopped kicking his legs and purred instead, curling up in their lap.

As soon as the others arrived, they showed Dairon the mirror, and the letter they found with it.

"Looks like a visit to Den Theylss is in order," Dairon declared. The Dynasty clearly had a traitor in its midst, and it sounded like the Shadowhand was their prime suspect.

_Essek's den._ It made Caleb's stomach lurch. He needed Essek to be innocent, but he couldn't explain _why._ If he were in league with Martinet Ludinus, wouldn't that put them on the same side? Only Caleb wasn't sure whose side he was on anymore. Neither the Assembly nor the Dynasty seemed to trust him. Maybe he was on his own.

* * *

Beau was elected to search the Shadowhand's study in Den Thelyss. It had two doors, on opposite sides. Nott and Caleb were stationed on either side, standing watch. Nott had a marvellous trick where she could send messages from the opposite ends of a house, so they kept each other awake. That was the plan, anyway. Crouched underneath a side table in a darkened hallway, he had nearly drifted off to sleep twice listening to Nott regale him with stories about her family. Her stories would have been endearing if he hadn't spent the entire day talking to nobles.

"What are you doing here?" A voice cut through the silent hall, but this time it wasn't Nott's. Caleb jerked upright, slamming his head against the top of the table. It was Essek. He didn't look angry or even surprised to find him there. He edged closer, crouched down, tutting, and extended a hand to feel Caleb's forehead, as if checking for a fever.

"Poor thing. Did you hurt yourself?" Caleb brought his knees up closer to his chest as Essek edged forward. His other hand lifted Caleb's jaw, drew it forward. "I know a cure for that." Then he kissed him, in a graceless, hungry way. Such a polite, mild-mannered man giving way to passion was irresistable. So Caleb didn't resist. He took his face between his hands, smiling into each kiss. They both were.

"Luxon take you," Caleb whispered when they broke away to catch their breath. "You took your precious time." Essek's hooked an arm around his waist, drew him closer. He kissed his neck, his throat, undid the top buttons of his tunic to kiss his collarbone. Caleb grabbed a handful of hair, tilted his head back so he could look his fill at shining eyes searching his. Everything was happening so quickly. Too quickly. It wouldn't last. He wanted it to last. 

"Do you want to stop?" Essek asked, drawing back. Caleb shook his head and Essek licked his lips, murmurred: "_Good_," before taking up his hand to kiss his upturned palm. Then he kissed him on the mouth, before pulling Caleb's tunic up over his head. Their lips parting just long enough to make Caleb desperate for more. He took hold of Essek's neck, pressed their foreheads together, closed his eyes.

"Gods, how perfect you are. How divine," Caleb whispered. Essek unlaced his boots, and Caleb kicked them off, so he could finish undressing him. More kisses. Laughter. Caleb tried to take hold of his mantle, his shoulders, _anything... _only to find nothing there.  
  
_"Get up! We have to go!"_ Beau snapped in a loud whisper. A boot connected very sharply with his ribs and he quickly scrambled to his feet. This was a new low, even for him. He gave thanks the room was so dark she didn't have to see the effect a stupid dream had on him.

"Did you find anything?" He asked, jolting upright. He adjusted his coat, fumbling in the dark with the buttons.

"The Shadowhand legged it. Took his records with him. The place has been cleaned out. Gods, its _too _perfect, either we are right and he knew he wasn't coming back, or someone else has done a damned good job of framing him." A beat. She gave Caleb a cursory inspection. "What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nothing! I feel terrific!" He said, his voice leaping an octave higher.

"Great. Then I need you to deliver these letters to Dairon. I'm going to find Nott. If one of us gets caught... don't look back."

She passed him the letters, all tied up with string. As she did, their eyes locked.

"Beauregard, I'm not going to leave you behind," he said with conviction.

"Just get out of here, you soft idiot! I'll see you on the other side."

She saluted him before racing down a corridor heading deeper into the Den, in search of their companion.

Caleb shoved the letters into his coat pocket, and started lightly making his way down a different corridor, in search of any exit besides the one they had entered with Nott's able assistance. He still had invisibility on tap in a pinch but it was a concentration spell and he didn't want his hands to be tied if he needed another. He hugged close to the wall with the windows, figuring by picking a wall and sticking to it he would eventually find his way out of this maze. Instead he found a dormitory full of trancing drow. He passed through it as quietly as he could. The door creaked a little too loudly when he opened it, but already well past the point of no return, he pressed onward, until he reached a library. It was beautiful. A light had been left on, and he was half tempted to peruse the shelves before pressing on. His hesitation proved fatal. He reached for one book, which caught his eye.  
  
"You're not allowed to be in here," came a voice over his shoulder. He spun around to see an elven woman in a floorlength green dress looking up at him, expectantly.

"Are you the librarian?" He asked tentatively, withdrawing the hand suspended mid air. He needed to think up a cover story fast. He didn't want to have to fight his way out of here. "My friend sent me to find a book for him..."

"Only members of Den Thelyss are permitted to enter these premises. You're trespassing. Do you know what we do to trespassers?" A ball of dark energy materialised just above her hand and her glare turned to steel. She showed her fangs.

Caleb took a step back, pulled up his hands as if under arrest. He could always try casting invisibility and running, but he doubted he would be able to get out of range before she unleashed the full force of her spell.

_"Misan, _please! I invited him here. He is my guest, and I requested that book," Essek said, quickly moving between Caleb and the temperamental drow, hands extended out, defensively. Misan let the energy snap out of life, and straightened up like a shot, eyes wide, suddenly filled with regret—either for overstepping or for getting caught.

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry, Essek. I didn't know he was yours."

"Go to bed, dear. It's late. I will watch over the library myself."

Misan nodded and darted off towards the door of the dormitory.

Once she left, Essek turned on Caleb looking sombre, arms crossed. He was dressed for bed.

"There. Problem solved. Now are you going to tell me what compelled you to break into my Den?"

"I didn't think I'd see you again! I really hope you're real," Caleb murmurred under his breath.

"Don't tell me you think I'm an Echo. Whatever timeline this is, I fear we're in it together."

"No, I think you're a miracle! Thank you. I forgot to thank you. Before."

"That's not an explanation, Caleb."

He was stalling for time. He knew he had to tell him something. It might as well be the truth.

"I found some letters. Interesting letters. From your boss to mine. I wanted to know if there were any more."

Essek's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, closer to Caleb and to the light.

"Show me these letters," he demanded.

"There's not enough time," Caleb tried to explain, but Essek quickly cut him off.

"My compatriot would have killed you without hesitation. I would not do away so quickly with such a.... capable arcanist as yourself... but you will tell me what is in those letters, or I will take them from you by force."

Essek was threatening him, now. He really should not have found that so attractive, but there was something in his tone, and the way his eyes burned, which took his breath away.

"I think the Shadowhand may be working against the Dynasty with the leader of the Cerberus Assembly."

Essek moved back, but his expression remained neutral, fixed. He raised a hand to his mouth, considering this.

"What book did you want?" He asked, almost reflexively.

"What?"

He indicated the shelves.

"Oh, I... this one, on the manipulation of energy." Caleb showed him. He recognised the title at once.

"Take it. Tell me if you learn anything more about the Shadowhand, or his whereabouts. If he's _very_ lucky, he's already dead."

"Are you allowed to give away these books?" Caleb asked, examining his new gift for a long moment before filing it away in his coat.

"They never taught you how to keep secrets in your Glorious Empire?" Essek asked, incredulous. "This can be ours."

Caleb smiled, momentarily forgetting where he was, and why he was there.

"Should I tell the Bright Queen what I've found?"

"Of course. But leave my name out of it, or else they will suspect I orchestrated his disappearance. They think I'm after his job."

So the book wasn't a gift. He was trying to buy him off. He remembered what Lytheer said about Essek's willingness to do whatever it took to gain power. He wondered if it was true.

"Are you after his job?"

"It is the ambition of every mage in the Dynasty to one day become Shadowhand. But I am too young, and have too many rivals, to survive a scandal like this. My enemies would insist I knew of his treason, or had some part in it."

"Did you?" Caleb wondered aloud. His frankness caught Essek off guard. He was used to dealing with politicians and spies who always talked in circles. Essek tilted his head to one side.

_"No._ I had no idea he was planning this. What does he stand to gain by conspiring with the Empire? A war? What sort of prize is that?"

"There are plenty of people who know how to turn a profit out of war," Caleb pointed out. "Martinet Ludinus, for one."

"Clever Caleb. You're probably right." His smile softened. He edged forward. Caleb stood as if rooted to the spot. He extended a hand, lightly touched the side of Caleb's face. "You're wasted in the Empire."

Without warning, Essek teleported them out of the library and into the courtyard outside. He withdrew his hand, looked Caleb over to ensure he was still in one piece, said: "Until next time... good hunting, Ambassador," then turned to leave.

"_W__ait, Essek!" _Caleb called after him.

He stopped short, spun around to face him.

"Thanks for the book. I hope you're not the traitor."

Essek nodded faintly, wore a bittersweet smile.

"I hope you're not the traitor, too."

He disappeared inside the towering doors of the Lucid Bastion, leaving Caleb alone in the cold, waiting for his friends. He looked down and noticed something gleaming on the ground. He edged it with the toe of his boot and it turned over. _Silver._ _Another gift?_ He picked it up. It was a length of chain with a symbol of the Luxon. Attached was a note: _This will open more doors for you than I can.  
_

He didn't recognise the handwriting. He doubted it was written for him. But he smiled as he closed his hand around it. It wasn't a keepsake: it was a key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running late, but thanks for the kudos + comments! Next chapter will have more cameos and fluff, they deserve a break. Happy New Year's Eve! Maybe Essek will come back from the war in 2020.


	4. Everyone Knows

He wanted to stop their lessons. They had been going on for weeks. First in the warehouse, then in the courtyard outside the Lucid Bastion, and finally, he had managed to gain entry to the Shadowhand's private study, where Essek had recently taken up residence. He was acting Shadowhand, now that his predecessor had been missing, presumed dead, for three weeks, and information had come to light the Shadowhand may not have been as loyal to the Bright Queen as once believed.

_It's not personal. He's busy. You know he's busy. You've seen the way he works, _he told himself, but it didn't help. This last lesson had not gone well at all. Essek already had the spell prepared and his book open before Caleb arrived. Caleb had barely enough time to transcribe it before Essek clamped a hand on his shoulder and said they had to cut this lesson short. He was trying to get rid of him. It all happened so fast he somehow managed to lose track of Frumpkin in the confusion, as Essek directedhim towards the door. He explained this would have to be their last, because his new appointment was keeping him too busy to keep students.

"Will I see you again?" Caleb asked, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice as Essek led him through the hall, a hand lightly grazing his elbow.

Logically he knew Essek becoming Shadowhand would change everything. He just never expected it to happen so quickly.

"Of course. In the Bastion, at your next audience with the Queen," Essek said, a little too sharply.

Caleb winced, almost feeling the edge in his voice.

"No, I meant... alone, like this. Maybe we could go for dinner somewhere?"

"Dinner. With you." Essek repeated, slowly, with a look of disbelief.

Caleb tried to smile. "Am I overstepping again?"

"I really don't see how dining with me could possibly benefit your Assembly," he replied.

That threw Caleb.

_"What?"_

"You are employed by the Cerberus Assembly, yes? They asked you to come here, did they not?"

"No one asked me to come here, Essek! I wanted to see you again," Caleb insisted. It was the truth. He didn't need a reason.

"To learn dunamancy. You have been very charming company, to be sure, but I know when I'm being fleeced. This was never about me."

"You don't think I could have any other reason for wanting to see you then 'my government made me'?"

"What other possible reason could a spy from the Empire have for wanting to get me alone? Inviting you here, offering you magic... it was all a test," Essek explained. "I suspected you were a spy from the start, but I was surprised when you turned in one of your own to assure your place here." 

"So you think I'm a spy... who turned in the mole to save myself?"

"I don't know what to think. You tell me, Caleb. Are you a traitor to the Empire or the Dynasty?" Essek asked, his voice even, expression neutral.

Caleb shook his head, sighed. "Are you going to bring me in, no matter how I answer?" 

"Why should I? You haven't done any harm yet, and... a very selfish, naive part of me... wishes to believe you truly are on our side."

"I had no idea who you were when we met. You could have crashed that party, like Jester, but it didn't matter, because... you were so kind, and clever, and... I have never in my life wanted anyone more than I wanted you when you kissed me." He was putting all his cards on the table, now. No turning back. "You said you were a different person with a mask on, and maybe that's true, maybe you are two people, but... I hoped the Essek I first met, who was so sincere, and so full of passion whenever he spoke of his home, or magic, was the real Essek, and the man I met the next morning, who was so terrified of anyone finding out he had a heart he papered over it... was the imposter."

Essek finally dragged his eyes up off the floor. He looked stunned, but made no reply.

"Unless you plan to arrest me, I'll show myself out," Caleb muttered as he turned towards the door.

"Don't forget your familiar," Essek murmurred softly, his voice low, clearly distracted.

Caleb snapped his fingers and Frumpkin appeared on his shoulders, then draped himself around his neck like a scarf.

"I handled that poorly, I'm sorry..." Essek spoke up. Caleb quickly cut him off. He could not blame Essek for distrusting him, either. What had he done to earn Essek's trust? What had he done, since coming here, besides tell lies?

"Don't be, you were just doing your job. Good-night, Essek Thelyss. I'm sure you'll make a brilliant Shadowhand."

"Would you... still like dinner?" He asked before Caleb could leave. His voice sounded small, distant. His usual confidence had deserted him.

"Tonight?"

A faint smile. Essek scratched behind his ear.

"No, not tonight, I really am very busy, I wasn't lying, but... tomorrow, perhaps? I could show you Rosohna, the real Rosohna... the parts you can't see from the Bastion."

Caleb remembered Beau's infamous _'Tour of Rosohna,'_ and how well that had worked out for her. He couldn't help smiling, even though he knew he'd never get anyone as straitlaced as Essek under a table.

"I'd like that very much," he replied.

Essek cleared his throat, concentrating very hard on the floor.

"Perhaps there is some truth in what you say. I have been trying so hard to look the part of a noble so no one would realise I have no right to be here, even though... rationally, I know this is not true, I know I have worked harder, and accomplished more, than half these nobles have ever dreamed of achieving, in three times as many lives. I thought this was what I had become, because it was... what I was forced to become, to be accepted as one of them, but... perhaps you are right. Perhaps by trying to distance myself from my past... I have forgotten who I really am."

"Whoever you are, I look forward to meeting them tomorrow."

Essek nodded, cautiously raising his bright eyes.

"Light be with you," he murmured.

Caleb replied: "Light be with you," automatically, before heading for the door.

There might be no more lessons, but at least he'd finally get to meet the real Essek. That was a price he was willing to pay.

* * *

"Is your friend joining us?" Essek asked, inspecting Frumpkin with pensive wonder when he came to pick Caleb up the following afternoon. Cats were a rarity in Xhorhas, and Frumpkin was a constant source of wonder for Essek.

"We are never far from one another, are we, Frumpkin?" He scratched under Frumpkin's neck until he purred. "Did you know he was once a Fey King?"

Essek nodded approval, tentatively reaching out to run a hand over the familiar, who raised his head, blinking wide eyes up at him.

"I'm not surprised. He has the temperament of a monarch," Essek agreed.

He was dressed down to simple, dark robes, but these did not completely obscure his body. He was wearing fitted leggings and leather boots underneath them, and multiple rings gleamed from his hands. He wore no armour, and no other decoration to signify his station. He did not want to attract attention, but it would be impossible for someone like him not to attract attention, even if he weren't Shadowhand to Leylas Kryn.

His eyes looked bright, shining. He fixed a smile in Caleb's direction. "Are you ready to go, Ambassador?"

"Call me Caleb, please."

"Then you may call me Essek."

"Does this make us friends?"

"I'm afraid so. Follow me," Essek instructed before gliding ahead, evenly.

Caleb was beginning to find it endearing how much of a smug bastard he was. That couldn't be a good sign.

Essek led Caleb beyond the Firmament to a crowded market district. The air was filled with music and food and noise, talking and laughter, and the streets were full of people. Essek took a brief detour to pick up some components from his favourite shop. Once he completed his order, he ordered extra for Caleb, and requested they be sent directly to the Lucid Bastion. Caleb tried to object, but Essek insisted. He also covered the cost of a book on transmutation magic which had caught Caleb's eye before he could pay for it himself.

Errands concluded, he led Caleb away from the main thoroughfare, so crowded and full of life, down a quiet side road, until they eventually found the door he sought. Within was a dark room full of music and lit only by faint candles. The band was scattered about, some of the musicians standing, others seated on the floor. Essek turned to Caleb.

"I'll get us something to drink..."

"Let me," Caleb insisted. "You've done enough."

Caleb left Essek at a small table, then made his way through a hazy, mist-like darkness, in search of the bar. A beautiful red tiefling took his order.

"Whatever your specialty is, make two."

"Sure thing, sweetheart!"

She set two green glasses in front of Caleb with a smile, and took his coins up off the bar.

He took them back to Essek, set them down on the small table illuminated by a single candle.

"Absinthe? Really?" He remarked when Caleb reappeared with the drinks.

"I am trying to assimilate," Caleb countered.

"It's been ages since I've had absinthe." Essek leant forward, levelling the spoon at the top of his glass, admiring the faint smoke which rose from the top. "The smoke is rather pretty, isn't it?"

Caleb tried not to think of fire and smoke and burning houses and forced a smile. Essek took a sip from his drink, after stirring it up, and Caleb tried to follow his example. It was a strange drink, minty and strong. The burn against the back of his throat was pleasantly corrosive, and shook him awake. He could almost taste the smoke trailing off the top of his glass. The music sped up, ane dancers had moved closer, limbs laced together, like lovers. Indoor plants stretched up to the ceiling. Vines climbed up latticework on the walls. A fire crackled in the fireplace. 

"What would you like to see next?" Essek asked. "There is a vineyard, a greenhouse, a solarium, many fine restaurants..."

"How close are we to the coast?" Caleb asked.

"A few days by foot, but there are other means of transportation. I could take you."

"You don't have to, if it's difficult... I don't want to be any trouble."

"You _are_ trouble, but I don't mind." He responded evenly, looking Caleb over. His eyes kept falling to his lips, and neck, considering him. "Would you care to dance?"

He finished his drink, stood up, and offered Caleb his hand, bowing low. The invitation felt out of place here, where everything was so informal. Caleb reluctantly took Essek's hand and he smiled, drew him a few steps away, then turned around to face him, raising the hand holding Caleb's. He still wasn't sure where to place his hands and feet, as Essek drew in his waist. His breath hitched. "This isn't a waltz, you can relax," Essek insisted in a whisper at his ear, drawing him closer. "Is this okay?" He asked.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Caleb admitted. He had only ever learned how to waltz. He was staring at their feet, unwilling to meet Essek's eyes, until they were stood so close he couldn't see his feet, and he tightened his hold on Caleb's hand, so he'd raise his head and catch his eyes. He was smiling warmly.

"Just follow my lead," he said, guiding his arm down and pulling it out to the side. "And never think more than one step ahead. Thinking gets in the way."

Caleb wasn't good at 'not thinking,' but he tried, for Essek's sake. He could handle this, if he took it one step at a time. He closed his eyes, tried to follow the rhythm without worrying too much about what his feet were doing. Essek dipped him, then pulled him back, in one fluid motion. His breath caught. 

"It's called a tango, a recent import from Marquet. Almost as good as their wine."

"Have you been to Marquet?" Caleb asked. As the music shifted, Essek drew him back into the cadence, still holding his gaze.

"No, but they sent the most amusing diplomats. I was asked to entertain them. I learned a great deal."

"About... dancing?"

Essek smirked, eyes shining.

"Among other things. I had to administer a sleeping drought to go through their effects. It was a prickly business. I ended up with a knife to the throat, but the venture wasn't entirely fruitless. I learned the most fascinating gossip. They had been keeping their ruler's dead wife, upon whom his entire claim to the throne depended, alive through necromantic means, and had somehow managed to evade discovery for years."

"Why are you telling me this?" Caleb asked. He did not want to imagine Essek entertaining anyone else. Is that jealousy? Was he jealous? Over an assignment, a job? As if he'd never been asked to entertain guests before. As if he had ever cared about his marks. What if he was Essek's mark?

Essek's hand settled on the small of his back. All his nerves were standing on end. It was hard to concentrate, pressed this close to him. In the dim light, among so many people, it would be so easy to kiss him. No one was looking. Essek had chosen well; he found the one place in Rosohna where no one cared that the Shadowhand of Leylas Kryn was dancing with a human from the Empire.

"I thought you'd understand, seeing as we're both in the same trade. Our lives are not our own. Moments such as these are few and far between."

"Moments such as these?" Caleb echoed, shifting his weight.

"When we can forget."

Caleb nearly stumbled backwards when Essek dipped him a second time. This time he chased him, his lips grazing his neck, before abruptly dragging him upright. Caleb stopped dancing, lifted his head. Essek stopped too.

"I want to lead," Caleb insisted.

"If you think you can, go ahead," Essek replied, taking the hand the human offered, and allowing him a moment to try and find his footing as they both repositioned themselves.

Once he settled into the rhythm Caleb spun, taking Essek with him. He was doing it all wrong, he knew that, but Essek didn't complain. He closed the distance between them until, as the music slowed, he had set his chin on Caleb's shoulder, their bodies pressed together, nearly walking on one another's feet. Caleb no longer watched his steps, or looked to other dancing couples for guidance. Even though he was leading, now, with an arm securely wrapped around his waist, he knew Essek was the one really in control. 

"Essek?" He remarked softly. The elf lifted his head to look up at Caleb, eyes gleaming amber instead of gold in the faint warm fire-light.

"Hmm?"

"This is nice."

He smiled, then dipped his head so it rested against Caleb's shoulder, pressed closer, drifting along with the music, which had slowed down since they started. They slowed with it into a steady, gentle rhythm. Caleb ran the hand which had been resting on his back up his spine, grazing it slightly. He had missed this, missed dancing together, missed the smell of his hair, the curve of his smile, the way their bodies and hands fit together, as if cut from the same mould. The way he felt weightless whenever their eyes met, or Essek lowered his voice and drew him closer, to hang on his words or his lips... whatever he could reach. Caleb pulled back, slightly, forcing Essek to do the same. He watched him, expectantly.

"Essek, I..."

Someone spilled a drink, and a punch was thrown, across the room. Voices rose in anger. An orc stood up off the floor, nearly broke a table. Caleb turned to watch them, felt a hand close around his wrist.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Essek said, already tugging him towards the door, as the music came to an abrupt halt and half the room joined in the ensuing bar brawl. A plate shattered against the door just over their heads, Essek narrowly ducked in time to miss it before dragging Caleb outside into the cold open air of the Gallimaufrey. As soon as they had closed the door behind them, Essek laughed, colour rising to his dark cheeks. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, a flash of teeth like sharpened pearls.

"Does this happen often?" Caleb asked.

"One gets very good at dodging after awhile. This way," he said, waving for Caleb to follow him.

* * *

They eventually found the restaurant Essek was looking for. He held open the door for Caleb, then glided inside, greeting the waiter with a smile, before asking for a table in Undercommon. The waiter escorted them to a quiet table in the corner. Essek ordered for him, and drinks were brought to their table.

Caleb could tell he was still on edge. His eyes kept looking to the door, the windows, cautiously. He was used, apparently, to being recognised in places like this, or called away suddenly on government business.

"Just keep your head down," Caleb suggested. "It's quiet here. I don't think anyone's looking."

"I hope not. I came here to forget I'm the Shadowhand, but everyone I meet feels compelled to remind me," he groaned before taking a swig of his drink. "Sorry, I... have been under a lot of stress, lately. But you don't want to hear about my problems."

"It must be hard being so important," Caleb observed, looking him over. "If you weren't Shadowhand, what would you be?"

"There is no higher honour. Why should I want to be anything other than Shadowhand?"

"You never dream of becoming Bright King?" Caleb asked with a faint smile.

"We don't have 'kings.' We've never had one."

He really should have known that. He'd spent the better part of the last week pouring over the Dynasty's history.

"Well what did you want to be when you were a child?"

"When I was... a child?" Essek repeated, as if the notion he was ever a child was laughable, bizarre.

"Can't remember that far back? I know you're three times my age, I shouldn't judge."

Essek did not like being reminded of Caleb's age. Not because he was so much younger—but because despite his relative youth, he might already be halfway through his natural life, human livespans were so cruelly brief.

"I wanted to be an astronomer," Essek said, eyes misting over a little as he smiled himself. "I've always liked studying the stars and planets. That was my focus, before dunamancy."

"I'm sure you'd make a very good astronomer." 

"What did you want to be?"

"An inventor, a doctor, an artist, a teacher... every week it was something different, until I learned I had magic. Then there was no question--I knew I had to go to the Academy and become an Archmage."

"So an illustrious career in politics never entered your head?" Essek asked. He nearly caught Caleb off guard, but the wizard quickly saved himself.

"No, never! The ambassadorship was just a... a happy accident." He forced a smile. Essek smiled back.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to lie to him, now, when the entire pretext of this outing was a shared desire to go somewhere they didn't have to lie. It felt cruel to ask Essek to take a risk he was not willing to take himself.

Thankfully their meal arrived before he could shove his foot any further down his mouth. He ate quickly, like he always did. Old habits die hard. He still remembered a time when food was scarce, especially in Winter, and you had to eat quickly every bite offered, or risk going without. The cold, chill air of Rosohna reminded him of home in Winter, only home in Winter if the Sun never rose.

"There's no rush," Essek insisted, evidently amused by the way he was scoffing down his meal like a starving man. "But I am pleased you seem to be enjoying your supper."

"It's very good!" Caleb chimed, after he'd swallowed another mouthful of... some kind of seafood and rice. A local specialty. "So can you tell me more about the Luxon?"

"Of course. What do you want to know?" Essek asked, moving his food around his plate as Caleb asked him a series of questions about the Dynasty's religion. It wasn't an interrogation, he was just genuinely interested. 

"Consecution is such a fascinating process, just the very idea of binding a soul to an object, even so holy an object, is... quite startling, even if it were not able to assign these souls to new bodies, of its own accord. If we could learn how to harness such power and replicate it, then perhaps we could find way to shift souls from one body, which is fatally wounded and already moments from death, to another, and completely bypass the process of anamnesis!"

"It is an extension of our God, Caleb."

"Yes, I know, but..."

"You cannot simply take it apart and see how it works, as fascinating as that would be in theory. It is divine magic. A miracle, given substance and form."

"I would still like to look at it, one day, up close. I can only imagine what being in proximity of so much power must feel like."

"I would not mind being allowed to examine it more closely myself, but it is kept in the care of our clerics, when it is not being used to consecute souls."

"Does it hurt?" Caleb asked.

Essek shook his head. "Not at all! But it leaves a scar. Would you like to see?" He loosened the collar of his robes, which were much less encumbering than his usual mantel, to show a white scar like a tattoo cutting across his shoulder blade, which contrasted strongly against blue-purple skin. Caleb extended a hand, lightly grazing the skin. Essek's eyes locked with his, but he didn't move away. Caleb drew his hand back, but Essek kept staring.

The waiter came and asked if either of them wanted another drink or some desert. When neither answered, he repeated his question in Common.

"Yes, please," Caleb answered, to the vexation of the waiter, who gave up and left. "...Is something the matter?" He asked Essek, who was still watching him closely.

"I was just thinking... how can you stand it, leading such short lives? Knowing you have so little time in which to accomplish your goals?"

"We can't afford to be reckless. We don't get second chances, like you do."

Essek's smile flickered out and died. "No, I suppose not. Which Gods do you worship, if I am not being too forward?"

Every time Caleb thought he had come close to pinning Essek down, he did or said something surprising. He was a walking paradox, capable of startling, unapologetic bluntness at times, but at others, he was so excessively polite he would apologise for thanking someone. Caleb was still trying to wrap his head around how Essek thought asking someone you had known and worked with for nearly a month what religion they followed was being two forward, but throwing someone you just met onto the floor and kissing them senseless _wasn't. _

"I have never been very religious, but... I have always felt drawn to the Archeart. The worship of outlying gods is punishable by death in the Empire, but my parents worshipped him, and now... so do I."

"And they call us barbaric!" Essek replied, clearly stunned by this revelation. While many in the Dynasty followed the Luxon, they would never outlaw the worship of other deities. Private temples and altars were always treated with respect. The government would only intervene in instances where the worship of these deities demanded, for example, live sacrifices, or the desecration of public property. Essek considered Caleb for a long moment as he fiddled with the sleeves of his coat, keeping his eyes downcast.

Caleb looked away. "I'm sure they have their reasons."

"Reasons they won't tell you?" Essek countered. "How you can trust a government who so openly deceives you is beyond me."

"I deserve that," he responded, still refusing to meet his eyes. He knew he was right, he knew the Empire was lying to him, but... no government is perfect.

"Under the Light, everyone has a chance to earn the rite of consecution. Even someone such as yourself could, forseeably..."

"Essek, are you trying to convert me?" Caleb asked, cutting him off mid-sentence.

A faint, glittering smile appeared on the elf's face.

"No, not really. I just don't like the thought of you dying in forty years' time. If you were consecuted... you wouldn't have to."

"I would be extremely lucky if I got forty more years!" Caleb choked back a laugh. "But I suppose that's your way of saying you'd miss me?"

"Perhaps. I did enjoy our lessons. Would you like to continue them?" He asked, brushing his shoulder against Caleb's in the booth as he cupped both hands around his drink for warmth.

Caleb had a few ideas of how to keep him warm. He raised his hand, grazed it lightly down Essek's arm until it covered his hand, then looked up at Essek, waiting for a reaction, any reaction. There wasn't one.

"I'd like that very much," Caleb answered with a smile.

It warranted a soft smile in return.

"Good," Essek replied, in that peculiar way only he said_ 'good.' _

He liked his voice. It was musical, lilting. He could fall asleep, just listening to him speak. Do drow even sleep? He could ask, but that felt like cheating. He'd rather find out for himself.

"Essek, would you like to..." Caleb started, before a familiar voice interrupted him.

_"Caleb, is that you?!"_ Jester shouted from across the room.

"Oh no. I, uh... I think we should go. _Immediately,"_ Caleb began, panic mounting, but it was already too late to run. Jester had darted across the room and was now standing in front of their table, tail flicking back and forth like an excited cat.

"It's so nice to see you again! Is this the guy you danced with? _Oh my God,_ _you are, aren't you?!_ Wait until I tell Beau!_ BEAU, THEY'RE OVER HERE! YEAH, HE'S WITH THAT HOT GUY! YOU KNOW, SHADOWHANDS!"_ She shouted, cupping her hands so her voice would carry all the way to Beau, who was still on the other side of the restaurant. Essek winced, covering his eyes. He had been trying to be_ discreet._ Caleb was already starting to sink below the table he wanted so badly to disappear. When Essek saw how nervous he looked, he reached out to take up his hand beneath the table, pressed it reassuringly.

"We were just leaving..." he began, looking to Caleb with pity, but before they could go anywhere they were hemmed in on either side by two tieflings and two humans, who sat down around the table with them.

"Hey Caleb!" Beau chirped, seated across from him and beside a very large barbarian with a broadsword and warpaint. "I brought some friends. I didn't think I'd run into you."

"I can see that."

"This is Yasha," she said, indicating the woman to her right, and then pointed to the purple tiefling covered in colourful tattoos beside her, garishly dressed in an embroidered coat. "And this is Molly. They work for the circus. And the beautiful woman to my left is... drumroll, please, Molly... Jester! I believe you've been introduced."

"We've met, yes." Caleb said with a curt nod. The purple tiefling, who was sitting far closer than strictly necessary to his left, offered a tattooed hand covered in an array of mismatched rings, which he shook tentatively. The tall women did not offer her hand, but Jester got up from where she was seated, on the other side of Essek, to learn across the table and offered hers. He shook it with his free hand.

"Huh. I thought nobles were supposed to kiss your hand." She said, taking her hand back with a disappointed shrug of her shoulders. Molly laughed, half at her dismay, and half at the Shadowhand's obvious discomfort with this entire situation.

"Only true gentlemen. May I have your hand, my lady?" Molly asked. Jester extended it, and he took it with great reverence, before pressing several quick kisses across her knuckles, then up her arm. She dissolved into fits of sparkling laughter.

"Stop, that tickles! It feels like little spiders running across my hand!" She exclaimed with glee. He let go of her hand with a smile and returned to his seat, and she returned to hers, Beau hooking an arm loosely around her shoulder. Jester leaned in. A green half-orc walked over, arms crossed, wearing heavy armour and looking very put out.

"Miss Lavorre?" He said, turning her name into a question.

"There you are, Fjord! We've been looking for you everywhere!" Jester said.

"We didn't look very hard, to be fair," Molly teased, affectionately.

"Pull up a chair! We were just going to have... do they have pastries here?" She asked, leaning in extremely close to Essek. He pulled back, as far as he could when he had Caleb seated so close next to him on the other side, and Caleb unable to move because of the two people now seated next to him.

"Yes, I believe so." He answered pleasantly enough, forcing a practiced smile in her direction.

"You're very handsome."

"Thank you."

"Are you having a nice date?"

"We are not on a date. We simply stopped to have a meal."

"Then why are you holding hands?" Jester asked. Essek narrowed his eyes at her, his smile turning to glass, ready to shatter, and take anyone in proximity down with it. "And having a candelit dinner, alone? That sounds pretty romantic to me."

Essek let go of Caleb's hand beneath the table. Caleb frowned, brought both his hands up to run them through his hair, fix it in its clasp.

"It would be dark without the candle," Yasha pointed out.

"Everywhere is dark in this city," Beau added, "and cold, maybe they just came in here to get out of the cold."

"Yeah. Definitely not to make out_ at all,"_ Jester added, nodding in agreement.

Essek finally broke off his staring contest with Jester and turned to Caleb.

"Where did you meet these friends of yours?" He asked.

"I met them... during my travels. The circus people are new."

"We're only in town for a few days. But I might stay longer, now I know you're here. I've always had a thing for redheads," he hummed, winking at Caleb, who was already blushing bright red. The purple tiefling leaned in closer, lowered his voice to a whisper and said: "you look good enough to eat, and I'm famished." He tried to run his fingers up Caleb's arms alluringly, but Caleb quickly edged away, and closer to Essek. They were already sitting shoulder to shoulder. Essek moved to make room for him, sliding an arm loosely around his waist, all while looking daggers at Molly, who quickly pulled away.

"Looks like you're right, Jester. We're interrupting their date," Molly concurred with a bored sigh, tapping Yasha's arm. "Be a dear and fetch the waiter, would you, love? Drinks are on me tonight." Yasha stood up and hunted down the waiter. It didn't take her long to find him, towering as she did over most of the occupants. Molly dropped a few coins on the table while he waited for her return, started counting them.

"I... will be right back. I feel ill." Caleb mumbled, getting up and pushing past Molly and trying to find his way through the restaurant. He was looking for a back door, but eventually wound up in a washroom. He closed his eyes, hit his head against the wall a few times. The walls were painted red and white, with wide vertical stripes. He had counted them all twice before there was a knock on the door. "Come in. It's not locked."

Beau strode in, took one look at Caleb sitting on the floor, and immediately joined him, cross-legged.

"What's wrong? What did the pretty boy do to you this time?" She asked.

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you in here crying?"

"I'm not crying! I'm just... I needed to be alone. It was getting too crowded and everyone was talking and... and everything was going great before your friends showed up."

"At least I have friends."

"Thanks."

She ruffled his hair.

"No problem, boss!"

She extended an arm and brought him in for a sideways hug. He put up no resistance, leaning into it. Welcoming it.

"So... how's the interrogation going? Find out anything useful?" She asked, already making fun of him. Why did he let her? Why did he walk into these things?

"I don't know what to do. Today went well. I really like him, Beau. I don't want to spoil everything, but... I always spoil everything."

"Then don't! Can I tell you a secret?" She asked, leaning in closer to whisper: "I think he likes you, too. He got mad at Molly when he made a pass at you."

The door opened. There was a hurried apology, and the door started to close again, before Beau chirped up, raising an arm in the air.

"Hey, it's Yasha! You can join us." Caleb started to protest, before Beau cut him off with the adage: "Secrets don't make friends, Caleb."

The towering woman with black and white hair and mismatched eyes walked in, closing the door behind her.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, unless you're sure..."

"You're not interrupting! He's just crying because he has a crush like normal people do."

_"I'm not crying!"_ Caleb snapped, moving to his feet. Beau quickly leapt to hers, so they were all standing.

"Are you afraid he doesn't feel the same way?" Yasha asked, in a voice which was surprisingly gentle for such a mountain of a woman. She had flowers strewn in her hair, and a soft smile. He nodded. "Well, I know it's not my place to say, but... he seems nice. Have you tried telling him how you feel?"

"No, I haven't told him yet, but... I'm afraid we're moving too fast, and... I could be called back to the Empire any day, now, without warning, and... I can't stop worrying that if I am called away, I might never see him again, and if the Empire really wants a war, we'll be trapped on opposing sides, and... what if he gets hurt?!" They had reached a stalemate. He knew the closer he got to Essek, the harder it would be to leave. "What if he gets hurt, and I'm a thousand miles away, and there's nothing I can do?!" Yasha was already hugging him before he could finish. He buried his face in her shoulder as a large arm wrapped around him, protectively.

"There, there. It's alright," she insisted, with more patience and sympathy than he deserved.

The door opened, and Molly popped in. "Why are you all hiding in here? Are you having a party?"

"No, we're having a moment, Molly," Beau explained, arms crossed.

He looked between them.

"What, all of you?"

"Caleb's got a crush and he's sad about it."

That was the final straw. Caleb drew out of the hug and faced Yasha, loosely taking hold of her big, strong arms.

"You are... a wonderful woman, with a heart of gold," he proclaimed. "Thank you."

Yasha smiled and patted his arm reassuringly.

"This isn't the threesome I imagined," Molly mumbled, disappointed. "There was certainly less crying. Unless those are tears of joy? Eh?" He looked Caleb up and down, fiddling with one of his earrings. "No? I thought not. We'll have to invent some other way to cheer you up. Do you like magic tricks?"

"I'm getting out of here," Caleb said, turning on his heel and heading for the door. Before he could Molly had his arm draped over his shoulder, and a tail dancing so close to his ankles it threatened to trip him up. This was exactly the last thing he needed after a panic attack.

"Have no fear, my friend! I am world renowned as one of the finest matchmakers in Wildemount! I can save your entire evening for the low low price of... covering the round of drinks I just purchased please I am completely stint."

_"All I want is for you people to stop helping me!"_ Caleb snapped, breaking free from Molly's arms and escaping the washroom. Everyone else simply looked on, startled.

He ran a hand through his hair and set right his coat before gliding, with false confidence, in the direction of their table, which was now mostly occupied by full drinks, precariously stacked pastries, and empty chairs. Essek was sitting to one side of the booth with Jester in his lap and one of her arms around his neck, and Fjord was sitting across from them on the other side of the booth, reading a menu and trying to ignore them. Essek looked miserable. As soon as he caught sight of Caleb he stood up, Jester spilling out of his lap with a yelp of protest and falling longways into the booth. Before Caleb could say anything, Essek had already taken him by the hand and started leading him to the door. Caleb stumbled after him, dragged along.

"I've had enough of your friends!" Essek exclaimed once they were outside.

"They aren't my friends," Caleb pointed out. "They're Beau's. Did you pay?"

He waved his hand, dismissively. "Semantics. Yes, I paid."

"How much do I owe you?" Caleb asked, reaching into his coat pocket with his free hand to feel for his coin purse.

"What? Oh. Nothing."

Caleb stopped cold, forcing Essek to stop, too. At least they were outside now. The others were unlikely to follow, with so many drinks and pastries waiting for them.

"You paid for my meal?" Caleb clarified. Essek had given him a speech about how_ 'nothing is free in Xhorhas'_ not so very long ago, and now he was paying for his meals and spell components. He even bought him a book. Funny, that.

Essek was still fuming.

"That little blue one is the worst! Such a sweet, innocent smile and such a foul mouth. She was making jokes with the other tiefling. They were _betting_ over me, as if I weren't there, right in front of my face! And before I knew it, she had her arms around me! The cheek!" He huffed, indignant. "She said I... I... Can you believe they thought we were on a date?!"

"Essek."

"What?"

"You're still holding my hand."

"Oh," he replied flatly, looking down at their hands, which were still linked.

A few moments passed where neither moved before Essek let go of Caleb's hand and pulled away, as if suddenly noticing he was holding his hand over an open flame.

"We should probably call it a night."

Caleb nodded, opened his mouth. Before he could say another word, he noticed Essek freeze, eyes wide, gazing at some point beyond his shoulder. Before Caleb could turn to see what it was he took Caleb by the shoulder and dragged him into a nearby alleyway, turning them both invisible with a few words and a flourish of his hand. Then he threw Caleb into a wall. It sent a shock up his spine starting where his back had connected with the wall on impact.

_"Ow!_ What was that for?" Caleb asked. Essek grasped at where he knew Caleb _should_ be, and tried blindly to find something to hold onto, settling for the lapels of his coat, as he cast an eye over the adjoining main road.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so rough," he mumbled, lightly patting where he presumed the side of Caleb's face was. "I saw someone I know. I can't let him see me here, with you. No offense."

Caleb coughed. "None taken. I wouldn't want to be seen in public with me, either."

"You know what I mean!"

"I'm... not sure there's any way to interpret that which is more flattering, Essek."

"It would look bad him seeing me here at all. I seldom leave the Firmaments except for supplies. He would probably assume I were here to do something illegal, like hire a hitman, or a prostitute, or..."

"So now I look like a prostitute?" Caleb interrupted with a wry smile Essek could _hear_ but not see.

Before he could make a smart reply, Essek caught sight of the noble pair out of the corner of his eye. Caleb could feel his hands draw closer the collar of his now invisible coat. It was choking him slightly, but he wasn't in any position to complain. He had just bought him dinner, after all. And spell components. And a book. It turns out he was an expensive date.

_"Shh! Wait until he's passed!"_ He hissed, his voice jumping an octave higher.

"I'm beginning to wonder how you are so familiar with this district myself, seeing as you 'never leave the Firmaments.' How long have you been living this secret double life, _Shadowha—?!"_ Caleb yelped in surprise as Essek, breaking concentration and flickering back into visibility, lunged forward and kissed him on the mouth, shoving him back against the wall a second time. A second jolt of pain. He closed his eyes, leaning into the too-brief kiss, teeth tugging at his lower lip, the heady taste of salt and sea still lingering on his mouth...

"That was unexpected," Caleb said when Essek drew away, just as suddenly, peering down the road to make sure the nobles had passed.

"I had to shut you up somehow. Come, we may go now." He snapped his fingers to get Caleb's attention and bid him follow, like a dog.

"Which way?" Caleb asked, as they slowly made their way down the alley.

"Home. Quickly. Before we run into him again."

If Caleb was still paying attention, if he still cared at all about his mission, if he had not forgotten why he'd been sent to Rosohna the moment Essek appeared at his door, he would have asked _who_, precisely, they were avoiding, and _why._ Essek had called him a rival. That could mean anything. 

"Yours or mine?" Caleb hummed. He was enjoying this too much.

"Mine. You don't have one."

"We're moving rather fast, don't you think, Herr Shadowhand?" Caleb smirked, coyly, raising a hand to run up the short hair at the nape of his neck, and brushing his thumb across the base of his ear. Essek tensed, flushing a brighter shade of purple, before batting his hand away. Apparently he was sensitive about his ears. Caleb obliged, removing his hands and mumbling an apology as he made a mental note of this. Essek proceeded to give him a side-long look through narrowed, distrusting eyes.

"We are simply going to my abode to study spells, as before. Do you always have your mind in the gutter?" 

"You're the one who kissed me! Three times, now! I'm keeping a tally!" 

"Just wait. I'm not going to hold back and go easy on you this time. The Bright Queen's going to wonder why you're covered in bruises tomorrow morning."

Caleb could barely contain his laughter. "Do you ever listen to yourself speak?!"

Essek looked confused, pulled back. "...What did I say?"

Caleb sighed.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

As they approached a crossroad close to the Lucid Bastion, which stood out like a beacon itself, with its towering stained glass windows and brightly illuminated halls, Caleb asked: "What spell are we learning this week?"

"I have one which fixes gravity and time, but only in a small pocket of space. If correctly utilized, it can temporarily disarm an opponent, or traps and explosives..."

"How fascinating!"

Essek paused, lost in thought, as they waited for some carts to pass, carrying goods.

"Yes. Isn't it," he answered, pausing to look Caleb over.

"Now what have I done?" Caleb asked, watching Essek watch him with one brow raised.

"Nothing. I just noticed the way your hair gleams in the moonlight."

"Essek..."

"That can't be good for stealth missions."

"No. That must be why I'm not sent on any."

"No? Good."

The cart passed, and Essek glided on with a smug smile, still hovering. Caleb would have to ask him how to do that one day. His feet were killing him.

"I don't know what's worse. When he ignores me, or this," he muttered to himself when he was too far ahead to overhear him. He shook his head and started racing to catch up with Essek, who was now several strides ahead of him, and showed no sign of slowing._ "Hey, that's not fair! Slow down!"_ He yelled after him. At least they didn't have far to go now. They were nearly home.

_...Home?_

He looked up ahead, at the towering Bastion with its stainglass windows, the crowning light of the twin moons, the stars that covered the sky in a tapestry. Light that gleamed all the brighter, against so dark a sky, untroubled by the intrusion of faint green lanterns below.

_What if I stayed? What if I didn't have to go back? What if there was a way? _

He had freed Essek from his curse. He looked so much happier now. He wasn't afraid, anymore, to smile, and laugh, and lower his guard. Maybe there was hope for him, too.

Essek spun around, still hovering in the air, when Caleb threw a large pebble at his shoulder to make him slow down. He easily deflected it with a shield spell and dissolved into laughter as Caleb hurtled several more in his direction, a volley of tiny missiles. There was nothing he would not give to kiss that laughing smile, to take hold of his snow white hair and slender waist, and draw him back into his arms, as if he had any right to, as if no one was going to order him to return to the Empire and never come back any day now.

He would have to report to Dairon sooner or later. He would have to come up with a good story to tell his superiors. _I'm collecting information for the Empire, I'm unconvering the secrets of dunamancy..._

_I'm falling in love with Essek Thelyss and everyone knows, everyone can tell, except him._


	5. What Keeps You Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late, I wrote the rough draft over a month ago but thanks to deadlines and technical problems, haven't been able to finish it until now... but that also means it's spoiler free if you're not caught up yet! 
> 
> S/o to the Essek server for being amazing!  
Happy Valentines 🖤

"I have bad news," Beau announced, after breaking into Caleb's room via the window and shaking him awake at 3 am. He should have expected this, but he had spent too long in Rosohna. He was going soft, getting comfortable. It took her a few minutes to wake him.

"Why would you break into my bedroom?" Caleb asked with a yawn, slipping out from under the bedclothes and pulling on some clothes in the dark. "What if I wasn't alone! Can't you at least knock?!"

"I just saw Dairon. They Empire is sending soldiers to steal the Beacons. If they get away with it, we're both fucked. We have to get out, now!" She 'whispered' loudly.

Caleb knew this day would come eventually. He just did not think it would happen like this. They really were going to start a war.

"Are those our orders?"

"You don't have any orders. You're off the grid now."

He blinked a few times, still hazy from sleep, trying to focus on Beau and make sense of what she was saying. "What do you mean, _off the grid?"_

"I mean the Empire doesn't give a fuck whether you live or die! They plan to launch an attack on the Dynasty so they could provoke a war, and spin it so it sounds like the Dynasty started it. Dairon and I would run, and you'd be left behind."

Caleb went silent. Pensive. He remembered his last meeting with Ludinus and Ikithon.

_"He's not ready to be sent alone," Trent insisted._

_"If he is not ready now, he will never be ready. You cannot coddle the boy any longer. I am offering him a chance to prove himself... or die trying. It is an offer you should have made yourself."_

_"He has already proven himself. All of my students have proven them selves. They have all made the ultimate sacrifice." _

_"He may have proven his worth to you... but he has not yet proven his worth to me. Your praise isn't sufficient enough to warrant his continued tenure here. He must be tested on the stage of life. If he survives, and comes back home, successful... you may keep him. If he dies... then clearly he is not the prodigy you thought he was."_

_Caleb remained silent and stood at attention while his two masters decided his fate. He knew he had no say in the matter, so he hung his head and tried his hardest to keep still. But his hair stood on end when he heard the word 'sacrifice.' His eyes went dark. He lifted his head. _

_What sacrifice? Leaving home? Devoting his life to first the Academy, and now the Assembly? Losing his only friends in the process? Losing his family? None of those things had been his fault. They had all been decided for him. Everything in his life... had been decided for him. _

Until now.

_"Caleb?! Are you listening to me?! We need to get out now!"_ Beau took him by the arm, tried to drag him towards the door. Strong as she was, he was still immovable. 

This was the test. It was never about proving his worth as a spy. It was about getting out of a house on fire with the doors locked. 

"How does Dairon know this?" He asked, still a hundred miles away.

"They told Dairon to get out and take me with her. Never mentioned you. Said you'd be able to fend for yourself."

"Why did you come to warn me?"

"Because we are friends, dumbass! How many times do I have to tell you that before you'll believe me?!"

"We better warn the Dynasty." Caleb finished dressing and shoving components into his pockets, then headed for the door. Beau ran after him, stopped him again.

"Are you sure? They might arrest us."

"They might arrest _me_. You're not coming."

"Am too."

He paused for a long moment, holding her gaze, before relenting. She let go of his arm. Caleb found his way to the Shadowhand's doorstep, knocked. After a few minutes, Essek answered, looking surprised to see him. He even smiled.

"Caleb! How unexpected. What brings you?"

"We need to talk. It's urgent."

Essek could tell he was upset. He parted the door a little wider, stepped aside. "Come inside, I made tea. Jasmine."

"I'm not alone," Caleb gestured to the cluster of shadows where Beau was hiding, gave her a nod.

"Come inside," Essek repeated, still holding open the door. After Caleb entered he looked to Beau. "You are also welcome, Beauregard."

She bristled slightly at first, surprised he remembered her name, then glided inside. She kept a careful eye on him as he made tea. He had already dismissed his servants for the night, but his research had kept him up. Caleb took the chair he offered, but Beau insisted on standing.

"Very well. Explain yourselves."

"The Empire intends to steal your beacons. We think it is because they wish to provoke a war."

Essek's turn to bristle. He went very still, then brought a hand up to massage his temple.

"I won't ask how you came by this information, but... your sources are reliable?" 

"Yes. They have already dispatched a small, elite batallion of soldiers, known for their stealth. I think, if we act fast... we can stop them."

Essek nodded. "Maybe. I can request several Echo Knights to guard the temples currently housing beacons, but I doubt the Queen will allow for more without hard evidence."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Beau asked.

"By all means!"

"Let us help _our_ way. I have friends in the city. Mercenaries. They can handle a few Empire rogues without a single Kryn getting hurt, and if we catch them, the Bright Queen will have a clear upperhand in negotiations with the Empire. They struck first."

"I can't believe I am agreeing to this," Essek said, shaking his head with a long, forlorn sigh. He had been hoping for a quiet night in. Caleb drank his tea in silence.

"...But you are agreeing?" Beau double-checked.

Essek nodded.

"Yes, yes. Go on, quickly, tell your friends they are needed before I change my mind." He raised his eyes to meet Caleb's, steepling his hands together. "This hunch of yours better be right."

"Trust me, I wish it was a hoax," Caleb replied.

"You know the funny thing is... I do trust you. What does this make you? A traitor to the Empire?"

"I was never given a choice before. I have a choice now. Either I can run, and do nothing... or I can stop a war. I want to stop a war."

"You're a brave man, Caleb Widogast," Essek observed with a faint smile. "Braver than I. Please... don't be careless. Don't die." It might be the last time Caleb ever saw him smile, so he commited it to memory, before he and Beau were escorted to the throne room. 

He hoped it wasn't the last time.

* * *

Beau was put in charge of leading their friends, along with a handful of Echo Knights, to stand guard over the temples where beacons were being housed on the night of the attack. They only knew the exact night because Jester scryed on the soldiers to find out their location, and when they drew close, Beau readied their forces. Caleb directed the spellcasters, but everyone else followed Beau's lead. Nott sent a warning shot flying towards the citadel when she first caught sight of the approaching soldiers from her scouting point. While some guards stood in wait at the temple door, Caleb, Beau, and company hid in the surrounding woods, waiting to spring into action. They wanted to catch the soldiers red-handed. It felt strange to be fighting alongside Beau's 'drinking friends,' but Jester, Fjord, Molly, and Yasha were all there, along with Nott, who's home was now the Dynasty. They all had their spells and weapons at the ready, prepared to spring into action the moment the signal was given, via message, that the temples housing the Beacons were under attack. The attack came around two or three in the morning, when it was dark, and clouds obscured the two moons. 

Caleb did not storm the temple with the melee fighters, but stood back among the trees and fired a few carefully aimed spells from a distance. When one of the Empire soldiers broke away from the others and tried to attack him, an Echo Knight appeared at his side, grabbed him by the shoulder, and yanked him up onto the back of their horse, before giving chase to this Empire soldier. Caleb shot a firebolt at the soldier which made them drop, losing hold of their quarry. The Knight edged on their mount and stopped at the side of the Empire soldier's body. Caleb dropped to the ground and picked up the Beacon, swaddled it in his arms like an infant, wrapped up in a scarf. Fjord and Yasha, who had already dispatched two other thieves, eventually found him, led him back to the others.

"Are you alright?" Fjord asked.

Caleb nodded, breathless, clinging to the Beacon. 

"Lets get you back where you belong." Fjord was talking about the Beacon, but for a moment Caleb thought he was talking to him. He lifted his head, met the half-orcs eyes. Fjord smiled at him. "Good work," he said. Caleb frowned, looked down at the Beacon in his hands.

"I would never have gotten this back if it weren't for that Echo Knight. They're the one you should be thanking."

"Hey, don't talk yourself down! I saw you out there, throwing fire through the air like it's nothing!"

"Yes, well... we can't all have magic swords."

Yasha grinned, but Fjord sheepishly looked away. A sore spot, apparently. Caleb had recognised the sword for what it was immediately: a pact weapon. A gift that, sooner or later, you have to pay for. A gift from someone or something very powerful, and by extension... dangerous. Those two things are always synonymous, right? Essek's very powerful, so it stands to reason he's dangerous, too, even though he assigned some of his best knights to follow their lead, when no one else would listen to them when they said the Empire was coming.

The temple was strangely quiet when they returned. The sight of a few fallen and captive soldiers was broken up by the sight of so much blood. Molly and Yasha were both flecked with blood, and their swords steeped in it. Jester, Fjord, and Beau had all fought at close quarters, and won their share of bruises and scars. Beau was still reeling from the attack.

"That was a close call," Fjord observed, noting a gash through Beau's ribs where she had been stabbed by one of the thieves. She laughed it off, but before she could say anything Jester had launched herself into Beau's arms and was hugging her tightly.

"I'm just glad you're safe," she said, eyes closed tightly, one horn jutting into Beau's face as she reassuringly patted her shoulder.

"I'll be okay," Beau insisted, before looking over her shoulder at Caleb, noting the now glowing Beacon in his hands. The light broke through the thin fabric of his scarf. He didn't know why it was glowing. He couldn't make it stop. "Where's the other one?" She asked.

"What other one?" He asked, lifting his head up. Two clerics appeared to take the Beacon from him, restore it to the temple. As soon as it left his hands it stopped glowing. He didn't watch it go, although her could _feel_ its power pulling at him. Calling to him. _Like Fjord's sword? Or Jester's Traveller? _He wondered. He didn't know the difference.

Jester cast cure wounds on Beau, tail flicking back and forth anxiously. Beau gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, tilting her head back, as Jester stitched up the wound in her side with divine magic, then placed a hand over the scar, bringing her in for a kiss before she moved away, and there wasn't a mark on her, apart from some old, dried blood, which could be quickly washed away. Beau's eyes fluttered open and she smiled at Jester for a long moment before she remembered what they were discussing. She cleared her throat, looked around her.

_"Fuck._ Yasha, Fjord, Molly? Come with me. One of them must have gotten away. The rest of you stay here and make sure no one comes back for this one." Caleb would much rather help them fight than babysit a relic with Jester, but he agreed. Mounts were brought to them and they quickly sped through the woods in search of the escaped Empire thief who had gotten away with a Beacon, leaving Caleb alone with his thoughts, sitting in wait in a darkened temple for a second attempt which never came.

* * *

Dairon gave Beau their blessing before returning to the Cobalt Soul in Zadash. The Bright Queen was so happy they had succeeded in saving the rest of the Beacons, she agreed to give Caleb, Beau, and their associates whatever resources they required to reclaim the stolen relic. Essek offered the rest of the Shadowhand's notes for Caleb's perusal. These, combined with maps and notes Dairon had left behind, helped them track down a potential safe house he might be using, located deep within the Lotus Den, far from prying eyes. Caleb paused to write a quick message to Beau, then returned to Essek, who teleported them almost to the Shadowhand's front door. It was locked. Caleb used the beacon-shaped medallion around his neck to unlock it. The door clicked open, parted.

They explored inside. It didn't take them long to find evidence the Shadowhand had been corresponding with the Assembly. It didn't take them long to find the Shadowhand himself—no longer living. The Assembly were trying to devise a plan to get the Beacons out of Rosohna with the Shadowhand so they could experiment on them. But the notes which kept Essek so captivated were not what caught Caleb's eye. He threw off a curtain and found a large standing mirror. His eyes went wide.

"Essek, I think I've found something."

"What?" He asked, not looking up. He was still examining the Shadowhand's corpse. His cloak. Any sign which indicated cause of death. At his touch, the cloak broke away, falling to dust and ash, before being scattered by the wind. As did his hand, and part of his arm. Essek frowned.

"A portal to the Soltryce Academy." Essek lifted his head. Within moments, he was at Caleb's side, examining the mirror, and the runes which lined its border, closely. Caleb was right: it was a portal. He had never seen anything quite like it before.

"How much do you want to bet that is where they have taken the Beacon?" Caleb asked. "I can look. You stay here, and keep a teleportration spell ready."

Before he could pass through it, he felt a hand close around his arm, turned his head. Essek had stopped him. "I am not letting you go in alone." 

Caleb looked him over. Beautiful, dark, delicate features. Long pointed ears and featherlight hair. Elven. _Drow. _If anyone saw him in the Assembly, in Rexxentrum, he'd be killed on sight. 

"I know the Academy. I lived there for years. I can pass through it, unseen. You cannot."

"I am not letting you go in alone," Essek repeated firmly.

Caleb was not going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, not when victory seemed so close at hand. For all they knew, the Beacon could be waiting for them just on the other side of that mirror. He passed through before Essek could stop him. So Essek followed.

The Academy was just as Caleb had left it. Same curtains, some towering bookcases, same blankly staring portraits on the walls, whose eyes bore through you. He picked himself up and made for the door. He had a pretty good idea where they would hide a Beacon, if one was there. Essek followed, silently, his feet never touching the ground.

He cast invisibility over both of them as they made their way down the stairs, through a corridor. They eventually came to the tower storeroom where the Academy's most treasured artifacts were held. There were several heavily armed guards standing outside the door. Caleb traded looks with Essek.

"How do you propose we get in? Do you think you have one more teleport in you?"

"If I use up my last teleport we'll be sleeping in a swamp tonight."

"It's better than a grave."

"True. I could get us through that door, but who knows what's waiting on the other side? I'll create a distraction to lure the guards away, while you enter." 

Caleb bowed to what he suspected was Essek's superior wisdom. Essek ran off. Caleb shook his head, polymorphed into a mouse, and made his way for the door, dodging the heavy armoured boots of the guardsmen. He bided his time. Eventually, the doors were opened, letting out two mages in long robes, talking to one another and ignoring the guards, until they heard an explosion from the far side of the tower. The older of the two ordered the guards to see what that was, but stopped one, told them to keep watch over the door, before making their way to the stairs, friend in tow. Caleb raced forward and through the door just before it was slammed shut. Once inside, he found he was alone. The Beacon was on a plinth in the centre of the room. He slowly edged toward it, before turning back into a human and examined the Beacon, extending a hand towards it, but never touching it. He felt its rays, reaching out to him, alluringly, drawing him in. He stepped closer, entranced.

He didn't have to wait long for Essek. He heard a guard's voice catch, followed by a groan as they collapsed. There was a soft knock on the door. Caleb opened it, and found the guard slumped against the foot of the door, lifeless, neck twisted. Essek daintily stepped over him, and joined Caleb within. He closed the door behind him, locked it. Essek's grin faded the moment his eyes caught sight of the dodecahedron, and he murmurred something in Undercommon, before reaching out to clasp Caleb's arm.

"Grab the Beacon. I will teleport us back to the attic with the portal. By all that is sacred, be careful!" Caleb stepped forward, stretched out his hand. His pendant started glowing, as he drew closer. He picked up the Beacon, and it burned him.

_"Shit! _You didn't tell me it would hurt," Caleb snapped, pulling back.

Essek's eyes widened, and he pointed to the plinth where the Beacon was placed. "It's not supposed to. Caleb,_ look."_

He had activated something. A series of sigils lit up, trailing down the base of the plinth and extending around the floor in a complex array of geometric shapes and patterns. The plinth started crumbling away. Caleb took up the Beacon, which was still hot to hold, and ignored the burning. The door was forced open. Essek was standing closest. Two guards took him up, one holding onto either arm. They were accompanied by the Martinet Ludinus, who stepped forward.

"Very good, Bren! Well done. You've found the relic. Now hand it over, or I kill the Crick." 

Essek started muttering the words to an incantation which would free him from the guard's grasp, but before he could finish Ludinus had cast Silence, rendering one of the most powerful mages in Xhorhas powerless by stealing his voice. 

"If you try that again, I'll cut your tongue out with a knife," Ludinus snapped, snarling, before turning back to Caleb, who was still staring at him, the Beacon gleaming brightly in his hand. He no longer felt the heat of the Beacon, even as its strange fire spread over his body, encompassing him in its light. He felt an invisible noose being pulled close around his neck. _Is this anger? Fear? No. Hatred. Pure, simple hatred. I want to tear him limb from limb. Like he tore my family apart.  
_

"So what will it be, Bren? Either you can hand over that relic, and you both walk out of here alive, or I take the relic off your corpse. The choice is yours."

Essek kept struggling against the guards. He bit one of their arms and got kicked in the shins, winced with pain. Then the other dragged him off the floor by his hair and raised a blade to his neck. He spat at him, before locking eyes with Caleb. His eyes were large, dark, abyssal, yet full of feeling. Desperation.

Ludinus noticed where his eyes went, and the way his breath caught at the sight of Essek with a knife pressed against his throat, and smiled a cruel, sadistic smile. Caleb cared about this Crick. It hurt him, to see the elf in pain. That was always his trouble, even when he was just Trent's favourite: he always cared too much. It didn't pay to care about people in their line of business. He wouldn't be able to live with the truth if he knew. If Ludinus told him. 

"The longer you take, the more painful his death will be," Ludinus added, giving Essek a light kick with his boot. The blade grazed his throat, when he shifted against his captors, struggling to break free of their hold, drawing a thin trail of blood across his purple-blue skin.

Caleb looked long and hard at Essek, Beacon still in hand. Noted the way the blood trickled down his slender neck. He was mouthing something emphatically, but Caleb couldn't read his lips. A few more guards and mages appeared, just outside the door, attracted by the noise. Ludinus' smile widened, as he raised a hand, preparing a spell. They were outnumbered. Resisting was pointless. Caleb instinctively threw up a shield. Ludinus laughed.

"There are too many of us. You can't run. You can't fight me, either, so don't try to be a hero." He took a few steps forward, towards Caleb. He extended a hand, invitingly. Like trying to coax a wild dog to give up a bone. Caleb took a step back. His scars started glowing. So did his eyes.

Ludinus tried to attack him with a lightning bolt, but the light deflected his magic, threw the bolt back at him. He jumped out of the way and it passed through the doorway. The other mages and guards gasped, pulling back. He tried another. None of his spells could touch him. 

"Bren, what are you doing? Bren. _Bren!"_ Ludinus snapped, voice jumping with... fear. _Yes. Fear. Good. This is how I want you, _Caleb thought, as the memories flooding back, vision clearer than it had been in years. The Martinet threw up an arcane shield of his own, but it was no match for Caleb's. "What magic is this? What keeps you safe?!" Ludinus asked, desperate, shaking.

"You're just as bad as Trent. You're all the same," Caleb answered in Zemnian. "There isn't a grain of mercy or compassion left in you. I should spare you now, to prove a point, to prove I can, to prove just how small you really are, and how unafraid I am of all your threats. But you made the mistake of hurting the only person who has ever shown me any kindness. Any mercy. And for that, I _will_ destroy you."

Caleb could feel the residuum coursing through his veins, but he could also feel the force of the Beacon's light searing through him, a light so bright it was burning, and scorched his fingers. He cast Web of Fire. The shield dulled the effect, but it still hit Ludinus, as well as several other guards and mages, who shifted back, away from the doorway. It did not strike Essek, however, who was watching this strange scene play out with a look of horror. He had never seen anyone use the Beacon as a weapon before. 

Caleb cast dispel magic on Essek, who quickly pulled free his hands, and summoned an Echo. The Echo threw back one guard, and they let go of Essek, who turned around and caught the second guard in a choke hold with the sheer force of gravity, lifting him up off the ground with a few simple flourishes of his hand. Both collapsed, and he turned to face Caleb, who was now bending gravity. Essek had never taught him how to bend gravity. He tugged Ludinus up off the ground with a flourish. Holding the Beacon in one hand, he mimicked what Essek had done with the guards with the others, clasping them in a magical choke hold. Reinforcements flooded in through the small door and surrounded them, weapons raised. Essek darted towards Caleb. There was something dangerous and chaotic about this magic. Essek wanted to ground him, be his anchor, but part of him was afraid to get any closer. A trail of radiant light wove its way up the Martinet's body, and curled like a snake around his neck and up his jaw before bursting into searing light. He screamed, and Caleb let go, let him drop to the floor. He was still alive, but gasping for air. Another wave of magic knocked it out of him. 

"Can't win, huh?" Caleb spat with a wry, sardonic smile.

Once the initial shock wore off, several guards fired crossbow bolts at them. Others charged forward, blades raised. Essek shoved them back, then cast shield around them both, where they now stood back to back. 

_"Caleb,"_ Essek murmurred, hoping to bring him back into the room._ "Stay with me."_ With his free hand, Essek clasped Caleb's tightly, and felt a strange, unnatural warmth wash over him, some leftover residue of the divine fire the human wizard could now so haplessly wield. He closed his eyes.

A few arrows broke through the arcane shield, struck them, but they didn't interrupt his casting. His arms and eyes still glowing, full of searing hot, radiant energy. Flames tore through the room. Essek teleported them back to the portal before those flames could consume them, too, grabbing hold of Caleb and holding on for dear life.

The silence of the attic was jarring, compared to the catastrophic scene they had just left behind them. Caleb was out of breath, and there were several arrows lodged in his shoulder and chest. One wedged in Essek's rib. He forced out his own with a groan, then staggered forward to pick up Caleb, who was still reeling. He had a strange, faraway look in his eyes. The glowing stopped and the Beacon went silent, rolled out of his hands and onto the floor with a clatter. Essek picked him up off the ground, and took the Beacon with him, but it was no longer 'active.'

They heard noise outside, a commotion in the stairwell as the remaining guards scattered to search for them. He drew his hand away from the arrow he was about to draw out.

"Time for that later," he muttered, before shoving Caleb and the Beacon through the portal and into the former Shadowhand's secret lab. Caleb lay on the floor, gasping, and losing a lot of blood. It turned Essek's stomach just to look at him. He staggered to his feet, took up the nearest weapon he could find, an axe for splitting wood, and slammed it into the mirror, shattering it, before stumbling back. He collapsed beside Caleb, who had propped himself up on his elbow to watch this display.

"You destroyed the mirror!" 

"So they can't follow us," Essek explained, his breathing ragged. There was a lot of blood on his hands, his clothes, his hair. He couldn't tell anymore which was his, and which was Caleb's. There was an unfortunate intimacy in this, in fighting together, and quite possibly dying together. He had heard stories of soldiers in love, who had died in one another's arms, wearing one another's favour.

Not that they were in love. Or strictly speaking, Dynasty soldiers. But it was a nice image. He wondered if the medallion he had given Caleb counted as a 'favour.' He wished he had more to give him, but his pockets were empty. His throat was parched. 

"Shouldn't we run? Call for help?" Caleb suggested, running a hand along Essek's back, giving his shoulder a light, encouraging squeeze. Essek was too preoccupied to notice, applying pressure to the wounds at his side. He was still too drunk on adrenaline to feel the full force of the pain, but he wanted to stop the bleeding, and he did not want Caleb to see the severity of his own injury.

"You can't even walk," Essek countered, before laying down against the hard floor. If he had his way, he'd never get up. But that meant leaving Caleb to fend for himself in these unfamiliar woods. _Can't have that.  
_

Caleb grimaced, nodded. He tried to take his own arrows out. After a few minutes of listening to him try in vain, Essek opened his eyes and forced himself upright, then onto his knees, to help him pull them free.

"Brace yourself," he instructed. Caleb did. But he still cried out when Essek pulled them out, one by one. It was a morbid business, but someone had to do it. _"Shh._ I'll take you to a healer, even if I have to carry you there myself," he promised as Caleb slumped forward, against him, nearly knocking down the drow. Essek slowly folded his arms around the human. Caleb had taken a lot more arrows then him. He resembled a pincushion.

_"By the Luxon..."_ Essek muttered under his breath. Caleb had already lost a lot of blood, and soon lost consciousness. "I didn't mean that literally," Essek said to himself before popping the Beacon into his pack, casting a quick gravity spell, picking Caleb up off the floor, and stumbling outside.

Dusk was already approaching, so what little sunlight managed to break through the heavy curtain of fog could not trouble him, but he had a feeling it was going to be a long night. Lightning bugs and crickets and all sorts of wildlife were loudly communing, as he made his way through the woods and swamps. In places, he was up to his knees in water. Caleb eventually came to, a few miles from the secluded lab, when Essek stopped to catch his breath. He set him down so he was leaning against a tree. Caleb panicked, when he looked around him and didn't see the Beacon, or Essek, or anything familiar. Essek quickly wove into view, stopped his flying hands and racing heart.

"It's safe. I have it. What happened back there?"

"I don't know," Caleb admitted, hoarsely.

"He called you Bren?"

Caleb nodded.

"That may have been my name, once. It isn't anymore."

"You used divine magic to kill twelve guards and an archmage."

"It was the Beacon, it... it _spoke_ to me, but not... not with words," he explained, or tried to.

Essek arched a brow. He had to hear this—but not now, not when Caleb was falling apart, and in danger of slipping back into unconsciousness at any moment. So he did the only thing he could do, with no more health potions and no healing magic at his disposal—he wrapped his arms around Caleb and held him close. "You can explain later, after we've found a healer."

"You never should have followed me. You could have gotten hurt."

He _did_ get hurt. But Caleb didn't need to know that. 

"If I didn't follow you, then you'd be dead, and the Beacon would still be in the Empire's hands. We won."

"We won," Caleb echoed, but the words sounded hollow coming from a man who looked, and felt, half-dead.

"We're alive, and we have the Beacon. We've won. Now we just need to get you back to Rosohna in one piece."

"We can't walk all the way back."

"No, but we can rest, and when I am stronger... I will take us back." He slumped an arm around the human's back and under his arm, raising Caleb up and baring half his weight as they edged forward, away from the tree, taking slow, small, sure steps. "Come on, lets go. We can't sleep here."

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous."

"I can cast Leomund's... Leo...mund..."

"No, you can't even cast a cantrip. Come on, I'll find us somewhere nice and cozy to rest."

They didn't make it far. He could have sworn Caleb was getting heavier by the second. The ground here was muddy, uneven, kept snagging Essek's boots and refusing to let go. He hated it. He hated everything about this wretched place. If he had any spellslots left, he would have flown them out of there, but he had been bled dry of mana, and Caleb... had simply been bled dry. 

As soon as they reached solid ground, Essek collapsed at the foot of a tree, knees sinking into the dirt, taking Caleb down with him. He eased Caleb's arm over his shoulder and his back against the tree, then began checking his wounds. He had stopped minding the mud which now caked his fine robes. 

"Why are you doing this?" Caleb asked, finally finding his voice, and the strength to lift his head up to meet Essek's shining eyes. "You could take the Beacon and go on without me. I'll only hold you back."

"I am not leaving you behind. We are friends, remember?" Essek insisted, dabbing the blood away from his face. Caleb caught his hand at the wrist before he could pull away, forcing the drow to meet his eyes.

"What if I want more?" He didn't want to die with so much left unsaid. "Essek, I don't just want to be your friend, I—"

"Shh. We can talk about it later," Essek said, checking his wounds. He was feverous. This was the fever talking. No one can lose that much blood and still make sense. 

Caleb nodded, hung his head. "Did I scare you when I killed those guards?" 

"No, I'm just glad we're on the same side," Essek said, as he wrapped Caleb in his coat, then tugged him close. He couldn't resist the impulse to place a quick kiss on the top of Caleb's head, before folding his arms around him. 

He was still shivering. Essek tried to keep him warm, against the cold chill of the night, tried to keep him safe. He knew he should stay awake and keep watch, in case they were attacked by dyrewolves or moorbounders. But the heaviness of Caleb pressed close against him, and the warmth of him, and his large coat, which they shared between them, had a sedative effect, and when he felt the pull of sleep gliding his weary bones into an unfamiliar darkness from which he could not be certain he'd wake, he did not resist. They fell asleep in each other's arms. 

* * *

_"Found them!" _Yasha declared. Essek jolted awake, and looked to Caleb, still locked in his arms, a warm flush over his freckled cheeks, and a smile across his sleeping lips, _safe, alive, _before looking to the tall barbarian towering over him.

"Don't worry, I come in peace. Beau sent me. You weren't easy to find." She extended a hand to help Essek up. Caleb was still pressed against his chest, a freckled hand clutching at his collar, and a leg lazily threaded through his own.

"He needs a healer," Essek explained, unsure how to respond to Yasha's arrival. Propriety dictated he unhand Caleb, who had innocently curled up with him in his sleep without thinking, and was hardly to blame for reaching for the first warm thing he could find in that cold, dark swamp. All that talk about _'wanting more'_ last night could be blamed on his fever. Essek felt his forehead to check if he still had one, but that meant moving his arm. The sleeping Caleb moved when his living pillow moved, burying his head in Essek's shoulder, a broad smile twisting his lips. 

"We have a caravan. We can take him to one."

Essek slowly moved upright. Caleb murmured something in his sleep, tugging on the neck of Essek's robes. Essek couldn't take much more of this. 

"Wake up, Caleb. Your friends are here. It's time to go," he told him. Caleb groaned something which sounded like dissent, burrowed deeper into his shoulder, and robes. Essek adjusted, accordingly, encircled his waist with one arm, then took Yasha's hand with the other, so she brought them both up off the ground and onto their feet. Caleb did not like this rough awakening, and nearly slid out of Essek's arms in the process, but the drow managed to catch him in time.

_"Ahh!"_ He went, feeling a sharp jolt of pain, and settling back onto the ball of his feet. "I'm awake, I'm awake," he muttered, blinking sleep from his eyes.

Yasha led them through the woods, and along a stream, until they reached the small caravan she spoke of. Mollymauk was there, waiting, reins in hand. He smiled and waved as they approached, brightly coloured embroidered coat standing out against the grey-green murk of the swamp.

Essek helped Caleb, a hand planted at his waist, and an arm slung over his shoulder for support. His wounds needed to be properly dressed, but they had to make do with a few bandages. As soon as they were in the back of the caravan and seated, Caleb fell asleep again, still pressed against Essek's shoulder. He had barely spoken a word since last night. Caleb was starting to get worried. He hoped they would get to a healer soon, as the cart stirred to life. Molly was steering. The two horses pulling them were old and advanced slowly. Yasha was sitting in the back of the caravan with them, although closer to the curtained entrance, with her legs bent at the knee and a heavy sword slung across them. She sharpened her blade as they went.

Caleb stirred awake long enough to let Essek feed him a small saucer of soup, holding the bowl in one hand and his head in the other, so it wouldn't spill. The rough motion of the cart didn't help.

"You make a cute couple," Yasha observed with a faint smile, evidently amused by this. "I'm glad you two worked things out."

Essek did not dignify that comment with a response, but Caleb grimaced.

"We are friends," he insisted, but the words died on his lips when Essek took hold of his hand, pressed it warmly. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Caleb waited for him to move away... but when he did not, he relaxed and slunk against his shoulder. They eventually fell asleep, leaning against one another, hands still joined.

Yasha shook her head and kept sharpening. 

* * *

After travelling for a few hours, the caravan arrived at a small secluded cottage in the woods, almost entirely overrun by a garden which had taken on a life of its own. A sign claimed this residence belonged to a healer. Yasha leapt off the back of the caravan as it drew to a halt. Molly popped off the front, tied up the horses, and circled around to join Yasha.

"Are they awake?" He asked with a yawn, pointing with his thumb at the two wizards, still slumped together.

"They have been sleeping for hours. I don't think the Storm Lord himself could wake them." 

Molly drew back the curtain of the caravan, pinned it open, let a little light flood in. _"Time to wake up, sleepyheads!" _

Caleb was the first to wake. Essek was still pressed against the crook of his shoulder. Molly smiled with all his teeth. "Gods, you two are cute. Now get out of here before I throw up."

"Where are we?" Caleb asked, jolting upright, and adjusting to the thin light which now broke through the caravan curtains. Essek nearly fell over and into his lap. Caleb caught him and he snapped awake, making a noise like a startled cat. His ears flicked back, and he tensed, confused by his surroundings, and how bright it all was, until he noticed Caleb was still holding onto his arm, and he relaxed slightly.

"We've found you a healer," Molly said as he climbing into the bed of the caravan. He found a pillow to curl up with and closed his eyes, but kept talking. "Yasha will handle everything, don't worry."

Essek nodded, looking the purple tiefling over cautiously before he moved to his feet and helped Caleb up. His head hit the top of the caravan, so he had to crouch as they inched their way towards the exit. Essek leapt down first, wincing at the pain in his side when he hit the hard ground, but tried not to let the pain show in his face. Then he extended his arms to help Caleb down.

"You are injured," Caleb observed the moment his boots touched the ground. "You didn't tell me. How long have you been bleeding?" He had only just noticed the blood which had pooled through Essek's clothes and dried where he had been struck through the ribs. Instinctively, he reached forward to cover the place on his shirt where the blood had bled through. He had done such a good job of hiding his pain up until now, and Caleb had been so distracted by his own injuries, he had not even noticed he was injured. For all he knew, the blood on his clothes could have been from the guards he'd fought in the tower, or Caleb's, where he had held him close.

"It's nothing," Essek insisted, but Caleb did not look convinced. "Your injuries are more severe than mine. Lets get you taken care of so we can go home."

"Are you strong enough to teleport?"

Essek laughed in a broken way. "No, I don't think... not yet. Soon. Maybe we should stay with these good people for now. Beauregard sent them."

Caleb nodded, looked from Essek to Yasha, who had been silent thus far, leaning against the small fence surrounding the tiny two-room cottage and taking in her surroundings like a wolf taking stock of its territory. They made their way up a small path, knocked on the door. A very tall, and very pink, firbolg answered, with a pleasant smile.

"I wasn't expecting company! Please, come in. Would you like some tea?" He asked.

Essek was suspicious, at first, of this healer who lived on his own, so far away from the rest of civilization, but Caleb and Yasha quickly took to him. His name was Caduceus Clay, and he made them a pot of tea before setting to work. First he healed Caleb, then he bandaging the wounds his magic could not fix, and washed away the blood and dirt which still clung to his skin with a rag. Once he had finished, he set to work examining Essek, despite his protests that he was fine, and could wait until they reached Rosohna. He made Essek strip down to his leggings so he could get to the wounds more easily, and found there was still a large fragment of arrow lodged in his chest, dangerously close to piercing his lungs and heart. He would have to remove it before his magic could repair the damage dealt. He warned Essek it would hurt. Caleb took hold of his hand, and he gripped it tightly, clenching his teeth as Caduceus yanked it free. He cried out, when it left, tearing through his skin.

He passed out before Caduceus could cast cure wounds, repairing the damaged flesh, stopping the blood, and stitching together the wound. Caleb caught him, when he did, and held him upright on the small flat bed where he was seated. Caleb's heart beat faster at the sight of him falling, and his eyes fluttering shut. He thought after Caduceus had healed him he would wake up, but he didn't wake up.

"Let him sleep it off. It's a good thing you came when you did! That arrowhead was poisoned. If he had waited any longer, it would have reached his heart."

Caleb's eyes widened, as he looked down at the slouched body of the drow he was trying, meekly, to hold up. He was still holding his hand. Caduceus put down a pillow, and brought out a thin blanket he passed to Caleb, who draped it delicately over the slender elf's shoulders.

"He didn't want to come here," Caleb replied, shaking his head fondly at the sleeping drow. He couldn't stop himself from smiling, now that was no one was looking. Now that Essek couldn't see, and he could say whatever he wanted, without receiving a smart reply in return. "Proud idiot."

Caduceus employed Caleb's help lifting Essek's arms so he could wrap a bandage around his narrow chest, but he didn't take the same time he took with Caleb, to clean off all the blood, not wanting the cold water to wake him. He needed rest.

"He's lucky to have you looking after him," Caduceus observed in a low, deep, sonorous voice, which was almost as relaxing as his tea. "You must love him very much."

Caleb was still unable to tear his eyes away from Essek, who slept so soundly he might have been dead. It was hard seeing him like this. It was hard imagining what his life would be like without him. But that felt selfish, to skew the narrative, to make it about _him._ Essek didn't belong to _him_. He had no right to pretend he did. 

"I must," he answered quietly. He reached for the medallion with the symbol of the Luxon, took it off, and slipped it over Essek's head. He didn't stir. Then he took up the tea, which had already gone stale. 

Caleb kept vigil, sitting beside Essek's sick bed, where he slept soundlessly, even though Caduceus reassured him that Essek would be fine, and he had nothing to fear.

At one point, Yasha checked on him. Essek was still fast asleep, and Caleb was brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes, looking more dead than alive.

"You ought to get some rest, too," she chided, knowing he would ignore her. If she were in his place, and it was Zualla lying poisoned and injured in a sick bed, she would have ignored her, too.

Caleb's own wounds had mostly healed, now, thanks to Caduceus, but he was still exhausted. He offered her a meek smile, and a chair. She took it.

"I wish you were there. Maybe things would have gone more smoothly," he mumbled, still watching Essek. If he hadn't been so impulsive and run in blindly, they could have avoided those traps, and stolen back the Beacon without having to kill half of the Academy's guards in the process, and without taking a volley of arrows as payment. "He didn't even tell me he was hurt. What if he died? How could I live with myself, knowing I was responsible?"

"You _weren't_ responsible. You had a job to do, and... these things happen. Mistakes are made." Yasha was trying very hard to find the right thing to say, and clearly struggling. "But hey, Essek tells me you killed an Archmage? That's pretty impressive!"

Caleb sighed. Nothing that had happened over the last 48 hours felt real. It was all a fever dream. He was just waiting to wake up.

"I was trained to be an assassin. Killing people isn't hard. It's what comes after that's so bloody difficult."

Yasha nodded. 

"It's easier to kill people than to learn how to live with them... but that's what the circus taught me. I was just a sellsword when Molly found me, but he showed me I was good for more than just hurting people. I could make them happy. I could defend them. I hope you find your circus one day."

"Thank you, Yasha."

Her gaze darted past him to his patient.

"He reminds me of my wife, Zualla. She was just like him. Too stubborn to ask for help, and too busy protecting everyone else to look after herself."

Caleb glanced down at the sleeping Essek. "He's the reason I'm still alive," he said, wondering how anyone could look so serene, so peaceful, after the fight they'd just been through.

"Now you're the reason he is. Sounds like you're even."

"Maybe we are." To think, one little poisoned arrow could have killed one of the most powerful mage in Xhorhas. And he'd saved him.

It wasn't a dream anymore; it was worse. They were trapped in a fairy tale. He contemplated waking him from his death-like sleep with a kiss, but he knew it wasn't right to take advantage, to overstep. So he continued his vigil.

* * *

When Essek did finally wake, a couple of hours later, Yasha and Molly were sitting out in the garden, sipping tea and trading stories of their travels with Caduceus. The first face Essek saw in that strange little cottage, with its exotic potted plants, colourful crockery, and embroidered curtains, was Caleb's. It was a welcome sight. He smiled softly at the human, whose blue eyes grew wide when they met Essek's.

"How long have you been waiting?" He asked with a yawn. Caleb shrugged.

"Two hours. How are you feeling? Do you want me to get the healer?"

"I'm fine, don't bother," he insisted, as he reached for the small pile of clothes neatly stacked beside his bed and started dressing himself. In any other circumstance, he would have felt embarrassed to stand in front of Caleb in scarcely more than his smallclothes, but seeing as he had spent the greater part of last night curled up with Caleb... any modesty felt misplaced. Caleb still turned his head, to be polite, as Essek slid his tunic on over his head, did up his belt and buttons. He saw the medallion round his neck, but decided not to comment.

"You were poisoned. You could have died," Caleb warned.

Essek shrugged. "But I didn't, thanks to you."

"Thanks to Mister Clay. He's a nice man. You'd like him."

"You think so?" Essek asked, pulling on his boots, next. "I'm not sure he's my type. I can't think what we'd talk about. The weather?"

He wanted to make Caleb laugh, or smile, or at least stop looking so damn _tragic, _but nothing he said seemed to be helping. He tried to move to his feet too quickly, and nearly collapsed. Caleb helped steady him until feeling returned to his legs. He walked to the door. Caleb opened it, announced Essek was awake. Their friends outside waved and beckoned them over. A freshly brewed mug was offered Essek, but Caleb warned him not too drink it too quickly, in case he burnt himself.

"I'm alright, Caleb," he said, putting up his hand. "I'm more than capable of handling a hot drink by himself." He turned to face Caduceus. "So I have you to thank for healing me and my companion? If you ever need... anything at all, please, send for me. I am in your debt."

Caduceus thanked him for his offer, but refused payment when Essek drew his coin purse out of his pack. "What about you two?" He asked, eyes dancing between Yasha and Molly. "Would 200 gold be satisfactory?"

"Oh, very!" Molly chirped up with a broad smile, standing to attention. He leaned in close to Yasha, as if to whisper something, but made no effort to lower his voice. "I like this guy. What's his name again?"

"Molly!" Yasha chided, shaking her head. "Ignore him. We've already been paid."

Essek nodded, smiling politely at them, before his eyes darted back to Caleb, who was still standing close to his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're well enough to travel?" Caleb asked.

"I'm not made of glass, Caleb!" Essek snapped.

Caleb recoiled, looking like a dog that had just been struck. Essek felt his heart constrict.

"I didn't mean... I'm sorry I raised my voice," Essek insisted, reaching out for Caleb, but the damage was already done, and he had moved out of reach.

"No, you're right, I'm crowding you, I'm sorry, I... I will go check on the the horses," he said, heading towards the caravan. He didn't look back.

Essek looked to Molly, who was staring at him, smirking, from atop the fence, then Yasha, hoping one of them would stop Caleb, but they simply let him go. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for _him _to check on Caleb. He frowned and looked down at his boots. He knew he would have to talk to Caleb sooner or later, but... he was in no rush to have _that_ conversation.

"Well, if you're not going after him, I will!" Molly declared as he finished the final dregs of his tea and leapt to his feet. "If he falls madly in love with me, I won't be to blame!" He called over his shoulders, before wandering off in search of Caleb.

Essek went an unbecoming shade of reddish-purple and ducked his head, scratching behind his ear. He hoped Caleb hadn't heard that. Of course he cared about him. He wouldn't be here if he didn't care about him. He just didn't see the point in complicating everything with names. It's not like they belonged to each other. So why should he care, if Molly was the one to comfort him?

But he did care. More than he should. He couldn't stop imagining them together, now. Kissing. Embracing. Caleb sighing into each kiss, the way he sighed when Essek...

_Stop thinking about kissing him. You had your chance. You fucked it up. Remember?_

He wished he could _stop _remembering.

Caduceus appeared before him, took the empty mug from his hand, and went to check his temperature. "May I?" He asked. Essek nodded, absently, turned his head as the firbolg felt for a pulse.

"You saw his scars, I expect?" Essek asked, after Caduceus finished. Those scars had been worrying him since they found the missing beacon. Since they had started glowing. Since he had time, in that swamp, to get a good look at them, while Caleb slept. They looked... deep. They looked _painful. _But whatever story was behind those scars, he wanted Caleb to tell him in his own time, when he felt ready, or not at all.

"I saw the crystal shards, yes! They're fascinating. Fascinating. Pure residuum. Very powerful. But you shouldn't be afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid of him," Essek protested. And he wasn't. _Now. _He had been afraid the other day, when he'd seen Caleb light up like a dying star, about to give way to a flood of deadly fire, destroying galaxies in its wake. But that was before Caleb had stayed by his side all day to make sure he was safe, holding his hand even when he was fast asleep. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they met. If things had gone differently, if he had just _stayed,_ they might have had more than one night... but instead, he got scared and ran. He had a beautiful, charming, brilliant man in his arms, kissing him beneath the stars... and he got scared and ran. It would have been so easy if Caleb had just kept his mouth shut and played the game, but he kept _talking,_ and for some reason... Essek talked back. He had opened up to him, told him more than he should. It would have been so easy to spend one night with him, if only Caleb hadn't tried to talk to him. If only he didn't enjoy his company so much. If only he didn't want so much more than one night.

He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. This would be so much easier if they weren't just pawns on a chessboard following orders. If he was _allowed_ to want things.

"He won't hurt you," Caduceus continued, making Essek's eyes dart back. "You've had your heart broken before, haven't you?"

"What are you, some kind of fortune teller?" Essek asked, eyes narrowing into thin slits.

Caduceus smiled. "No, I don't know the future. I just know people."

"He died because of me. I should have stopped him. I nearly lost Caleb the same way."

Caduceus nodded, placed a hand on his shoulder. Essek flinched, not used to such gestures.

"He would have wanted you to be happy. You don't have to apologise for moving on."

Essek gave a heavy sigh in answer, turning his head away. He hated when the living spoke on behalf of the dead.

"Miss Nydoorin? I think it's time we leave," he said in a clipped tone, already making his way down the path leading to the caravan. He didn't wait for a reply, but Yasha quickly followed, after saying good-bye to Caduceus and thanking him for his help. It didn't take them long to find Caleb and Molly, and corrall them back into the waiting caravan. They hadn't been kissing at all, but Molly kept _smirking _at Essek, like he knew something Essek didn't, and that brushed him the wrong way for the rest of the evening.

The ride back was spent, largely, in silence. Caleb made a point of avoiding Essek's eye. Yasha and Molly took turns driving. The other would ride in the back with them, weapon out, in case they were attacked by raiders or wild animals. A bottle of 'imported wine' was opened, and passed around them, but they did not have much in the way of food. When it was divyed up, Essek pretended not to be hungry, so the other three wouldn't have to go without. They eventually made it to the outskirts of Rosohna, where they parted ways with their new friends. Caleb hugged Yasha goodbye, and thanked her for all she had done for them. Then he went to shake Molly's hand. He kissed him twice on either cheek, and gave him one of his signet rings.

"For good luck," he said with a wink, giving his cheek a light tap. "You and your boyfriend should come down to the circus sometime. I'll read your fortune free of charge."

Essek stood to the side, and simply waved, thanking them and wishing them safe travel because he had no idea how else to wish the strangers he had spent two days in a caravan with goodbye.

The wizards walked back to the Lucid Bastion together in contemplative silence.

"I'm sorry I insulted your friends before," Essek finally spoke up.

"They're not really my friends. I hardly know them," Caleb admitted without looking up.

He couldn't even bring himself to _look _at Essek, now. It made his heart sink. There was a time when he hardly ever looked away.

"Oh? You looked pretty close," he observed with a teasing smirk. "If you're trying to make me jealous..."

"I'm not." Caleb answered, serious as ever.

"Are your wounds still troubling you?" Essek asked, softening his voice as he edged closer. "Or the scars, where the Beacon...?"

He extended a hand but Caleb shrugged it off. "Lets just get this over with." Essek nodded, withdrew. He had missed his chance. He had scared Caleb away by being ungrateful._ A chance for what? To win his heart?_ He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve him.

As soon as they entered the Lucid Bastion, Essek told the first person he recognised to inform the Bright Queen their mission had been a success. They were shown into the throne room almost immediately. They didn't even have time to wash the blood off them, or change out of their filthy, mud-stained clothes, before they were being shown into her ornate throne room. When the Bright Queen demanded Caleb step forward and present the Beacon, he hesitated, looking to Essek for guidance.

He moved in close to whisper: _"This is your moment,"_ then pressed the pack containing the Beacon into his hands, and stepped back, out of the limelight. Caleb did as he was instructed, took the Beacon out from the pack, and held it aloft. The Bright Queen's eyes went wide. Some of the nobles wept, moved to tears by the sight of it. The Bright Queen thanked him for his aid, declaring him a 'Hero of the Dynasty.' He said he could not have done it without the help of his friend, Beauregard, who wished to join him in swearing fealty to the Dynasty. The only boon he asked for was the freedom to remain in the Dynasty, in service to the Bright Queen, and that they pardon his friend Nott the Brave's husband, an alchemist who had been wrongly taken prisoner. Beauregard was soon found, and shown in. Many eyes turned. Some gasped, to see yet another human, now that she had dropped her drow form.

"You may have all you ask for, Caleb Widogast. Your modesty becomes you, but I would not let your abilities go to waste if you truly wish to remain in the Dynasty and pledge your service to the Luxon. I invite you, and your friend, to join Den Kryn. You are Heroes of the Dynasty, who risked your lives defending the Light, and we would be honoured to have you among our number."

Caleb bowed, thanked her. He tried to look for Essek, but he had already disappeared into the crowd, so his eyes instead returned to Beauregard. He egged her on to speak with a look. She stepped forward.

"Your Majesty, we are honoured and deeply humbled by your invitation," she exclaimed, bowing in an exaggerated, awkward way, with both arms stretched out. This seemed to amuse the Bright Queen. "But this is a big step. My colleague and I would like to talk it over."

"Just say yes, Beauregard." Caleb insisted, nudging her shoulder. She clapped her hands together.

"We have talked it over! We would be very esteemed to join Den Kryn."

Another deep bow, with both arms spread out.

"Stop milking it," Caleb whispered with a smirk, giving her side a light nudge.

Beau snapped upright, and to attention. The Bright Queen raised a hand to her mouth, considering them.

"I will talk with our Clerics and settle the conditions of your consecution. You will have time before the ceremony to change your mind. I know it is a great step to take, and not for everyone, but it seems you already have the Luxon on your side. I do not wish to see your potential wasted."

She dismissed them. As they turned and headed for the door, escorted by guards, he heard the Bright Queen summon the Shadowhand. He resisted the urge to stop, to look back, to hear what _his _account of events were, and kept looking straight ahead. As soon as they were outside, Beau regaled him for details about what had happened. They found the stolen Beacon. Caleb had killed twelve guards, and may have killed the Archmage Ludinus Da'leth. It was all a blur. What mattered was, they succeeded, and they had earned a place in Den Kryn, and the protection that offered. This would be good for them.

"You really think binding our souls to a god who lives inside a magic box is a good idea?" Beau asked, still skeptical.

"Don't you want to live forever?" He threw back with a smile.

"Not really."

"Me neither, but I think we should play this by ear. See what happens. You never know! It could be fun."

* * *

The two parted ways after Caleb declared he wanted to take a bath and have an early night. Beau had, respectfully, not commented on the state of him, but even she was thrown by the sight of Caleb covered in so much blood and dirt. Yasha's report (via Jester's sending) had not prepared her for that. Beau had expected Yasha and Molly to be with them, but was disappointed to learn they had parted ways at the city gates without stopping to say goodbye. The monk made a note to ask Jester to send a message to them tomorrow, thanking them for all their help.

It felt strange moving through the Bastion now that she had dropped her disguise. As a drow servant everyone had ignored her, but now... they were all staring. She hoped it was, in part, because of the medallion she wore, and the honours the Bright Queen had just bestowed on her... but she expected most of the stares were because she stood out as the only human in Rosohna besides Caleb. After that meeting, she _needed _a stiff drink. She went to the nearby dining quarters and asked if they could throw together a cocktail that would make her forget her own name. The bartender humoured her. As soon as her drink appeared before her, so did Essek. She jumped, startled, at the sight of him. She hadn't heard him coming. Which... shouldn't have been surprising. What with the floating.

"Where have you been?!" She asked. "Caleb's been looking for you everywhere!"

"Is Caleb here, now?" Essek asked in a small voice. He sounded... concerned. She didn't know what to make of that.

"No, he went to take a bath. Are you going to buy me a drink or what?"

"Oh. Of course. Yes." He hesitated, looking at the nearly full drink in front of her for what must have been a solid minute before he called over the bartender and ordered two more. "May I be the first to congratulate you on your admission into Den Kryn!"

The bartender set one drink in front of Beau, and one in front of Essek. He took it in hand, seemed to be considering whether or not to actually drink it. Beau threw back most of hers in one go. Essek started drinking his more slowly. It was terrible, but he kept drinking.

"I don't see anyone else racing to congratulate me. They don't seem wild about humans here," Beau observed. Essek nodded, empathetic.

"No. No, I suppose not. Well, I should be going, but tell Caleb I am... happy for him. For you both. I am glad your audience went well." He forced a polite smile in Beau's direction, set down his drink on the bar.

"You know he's in love with you, right?"

"Don't jest, Beauregard, please. I have had a very long and difficult day..."

"I'm not joking! He's totally in love with you!" He took a long swig of his drink. Beau watched him closely, the smile on her face getting broader by the second. "So do you like him or what?"

"I... respect him. He's a talented arcanist, and a brilliant man, and... I am glad he has decided to stay with the Dynasty. I look forward to working with him more in future."

"Then why haven't you made your move yet?" Beau asked. She usually didn't get involved in other people's love lives, but... she could tell Caleb needed some help. They both did. At this rate they were never going to get past staring longingly at each other from across a crowded room. 

"You're the one who keeps stealing him away to go on incredibly dangerous missions!" Essek shot back.

"How are my dangerous missions worse than yours?!"

_"Because I can't be there to protect him!"_

_"You're deflecting!_ Do you or do you not want to bone my wizard?!"

That tripped him up. She had a feeling it would. He lost all composure, endearingly scandalised. "I would never objectify Caleb in that way, we are... friends! Worse, colleagues. My position would never allow me to... to..." he trailed off, evidently lost in thought. 

"So you don't think he's hot?"

"He is... aesthetically appealing, perhaps."

"Then what are you waiting for! He'd go the the Nine Hells and back if you asked him to."

Essek ran a hand through his hair, nervously. "Where would I even start?! I don't know what to say! It's too embarassing."

"Then don't say anything! Just kiss him and see what happens. These things have a way of working themselves out."

Essek nodded slowly, deep in thought. "Yes. I will try. Thank you for your advice, Beauregard." He stood up straight, finished his drink in one swig. "Thank you," he repeated, his words a faint echo, before racing off.

Beau shook her head and finished her drink in peace before heading to the new guestroom she'd been assigned. Maybe it was a good idea to get an early night. Someone had to be around, and reasonably sober, for their audience with the Queen tomorrow morning. She had a feeling Caleb would turn up late, if he turned up at all.

* * *

Caleb went to his room, and slept for a few hours before a tailor appeared at his door to alter some clothes for him. The Bright Queen had requested new clothing be made for him when she extended an invitation for Caleb Widogast and Beauregard Lionett to join her for breakfast the following morning with the rest of Den Kryn. He was glad it wasn't an invitation to dinner. He still felt half-dead, and called for a servant to bring him hot water, to wash the blood and grime off him. He took his time, in no real rush, but as he finished dressing, he heard Essek's voice cut through the silence. 

_[I can't sleep. If you're still awake, come find me. I am in Den Thelyss. Don't use the front door.]_

He swallowed the rock in his throat, lifted his head. The warmth emanating from his fireplace was too tantalizing to desert, but... he could hardly ignore an invitation from the Shadowhand. _  
_

_[I'm on my way.]_

It didn't matter why Essek wanted to see him; he was past the point of caring. His feet were already carrying him in the direction of the door, and his hands had taken up his coat before he could talk himself out of going.

He had broken into Den Thelyss before, but with the help of a professional thief and an expositor. He was hardly going to wake up either of them for _this._ He knew he could not follow the path he took last time, because he had no knack for breaking locks. He would have to be creative. He eventually wound up in the Courtyard behind the Bastion. Once he found out which window belonged to Den Thelyss, he made quick work of it, scaling a lattice and shimmying his way onto a narrow balcony. The thorns of the roses cut his fingers but he ignored the sting. He climbed down to the end of the balcony, and shifted to the next one over. There was a light on in the nearest window. He knocked against the glass of the door. Essek answered it. He looked surprised, but happy to see him.

"You're here!" He exclaimed. His smile seemed genuine. Warm. "I'm glad."

"It wasn't easy. I almost broke my neck climbing that lattice of yours," Caleb said with a nervous smile. He couldn't help but feel like the lovesick young lead in a play, who scaled a wall to kiss their sweetheart goodnight. Only that wasn't why he was here. Why was he here?

"Come inside," Essek insisted, taking hold of Caleb's arm and leading him in before he could protest. The door swung open, letting in the starlight. He left it open. It made the room seem almost to glow. Essek's residence within the Bastion was a stateroom much larger than his, full of books, paintings, and a tapestry which likely belonged to his predecessor. A fire crackled in his fireplace, but cool air spilled in through the opened balcony door. The sky above was clear and covered in stars.

"Why did you send for me?" Caleb asked as he turned to face Essek, who now stood between him and the balcony.

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even trance. I think you've... broken me, a little." He smiled, lowered his eyes, demurely. _That _was new. "I liked... being near you, these last few days. I think I got used to it, and now... everything feels so much colder without you."

He gave Caleb a significant look, hoping he could piece together what he was trying to say, but the human looked hopelessly lost and he could feel his stomach falling; the walls closing in. He had to think fast if he wanted to save this moment.

"I wanted to ask if you would stay here. With me. As my guest. You don't have to say yes if you don't want to! I would never ask more of you than you were willing to give. But you are always... welcome here. In my rooms. In my bed. I am being too forward, forgive me, forget I said anything, go home, please, I've embarassed myself..." he tried to hide his face, going redder than Caleb had ever seen him before, as his words ran together. The request had shocked Caleb, but he was smiling now, could not help but smile.

"No, no, _no, Essek, liebling, _please don't apologize! I like when you're forward. I was just surprised. There was a moment in the swamp... and later, in Caduceus' hut, when I thought... but then you pushed me away."

"I didn't mean to push you away, but I was... afraid. Not of you, of myself. I don't have many friends. I have always been afraid of getting... too close to someone, of letting others in, so I... I keep to myself, and my research. In moments of weakness, I would seek out company, but... I could never be certain it was _me_ they wanted, and not... what I represented, or what I offered... part of me still believed all you wanted was my magic, until I saw the way you looked at me in that dingy little hut, so small and powerless and near death, as if none of it mattered, because we were still alive, together, and you held my hand and refused to let go, and suddenly... I wasn't the Shadowhand, and you were not a failed Scourger, and... and all I could think was: _did you mean it?"_

"Mean what?" Caleb asked, throat going dry. Essek tensed as Caleb pressed closer, and into the light, to look his fill at the elf. He was dressed simply, not in layer upon layer of mantel and armour. His hand toyed with the thin, silk fabric of his simple robes, just another nervous habit, but it drew Caleb's eye. Then Essek took a step forward, meeting Caleb half way. He extended a hand, lightly grazed Caleb's arm. He cracked a faint smile, which seemed remarkably fragile when worn by someone so powerful.

"When you said you never wanted anyone more than you wanted me, when I kissed you?"

He raised a hand to graze Essek's chin, eyes growing dark, wide. "Every word." He would never have been so bold, if they weren't already so close, if he didn't think Essek wanted his hands on him just as badly as he wanted Essek's. Caleb leaned forward to kiss him. His other hand reached for his robe, and he ran the back of his hand along the rich material, until he felt skin. He parted his mouth, deepening the kiss. Essek closed his eyes and kissed him back, ears flicking down and away, flushed, warm. They had kissed before, but this time was different. It was slower, more tender. Not a mad rush of passion, like the first time, or a sudden impulse, but... methodical, intentional, full of feeling. Caleb drew back and Essek opened his eyes. He was smiling, too, now, and gazing rather intently at his lips.

"May I stay?" Caleb asked.

"Please do!" Essek answered too quickly, making Caleb's smile widen. Before Essek could say any more, Caleb's mouth was on his. Essek threaded one hand through Caleb's hair and leaned in, trying to keep pace with the human, while negotating lips and tongues and teeth so he did not hurt his human in the process. He nudged Caleb's chin up with his nose, kissed his throat, revelled in the way he made him gasp, as the human grazed a hand across his smooth chest, and the lithe muscles of his shoulders, arms.

"You've already done so much for me. I want to please you. Give me orders," Caleb suggested, as he undid the buttons of his jacket, then his shirt, letting them fall to the floor. One boot, another. His trousers. Then he lifted his head to look expectantly at Essek, who just gazed at him, slackjawed, unsure where this was going. "Tell me what to do."

The dark elf closed his mouth, lifted his chin. If this is what Caleb wanted, he'd play along. "Get down on one knee. Swear an oath to serve me."

Caleb obliged. He took up Essek's trembling hand, turned it over, pressed a kiss to his palm.

"Yes, Shadowhand," he murmurred. "I am yours."

Caleb placed another kiss higher up, at the heel of his palm, before peppering several more up his arm. Essek felt lightheaded. Like he had been drinking fey wine, only he hadn't been drinking. He had scarcely drunk anything all day, apart from what he ordered when he spoke with Beau. How long would this have taken if he had never spoken to Beau?

"Swear an oath to defend me."

"Yes, Shadowhand."

"Is that all you can say, my vassal?" Essek asked with a wry smile. Caleb shook his head. "Stand up." He moved to his feet. Essek edged closer, ran a hand along his chest, and down his torso, with a considering expression. His hand dipped low, but not low enough. He was close, but not close enough. Caleb tried to kiss him again, growing impatient, but Essek turned his head, offering his cheek instead. Caleb kissed the side of his face, the line of his jaw, the base of his ear, his neck...

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Essek asked, pulling away for a single moment. It was too long. Caleb pressed their foreheads together.

"All I want is you. I have already renounced my country for you. My people. If you want my life... it's yours," Caleb murmurred, eyes closed, lips searching blindly, in the dark, for Essek's. But the darkness didn't hinder Essek's senses; they sharpened them. The night was his element. His eyes gleamed as he leaned closer. He tilted his face to one side, so their lips nearly met... before stopping short, a hand at Caleb's stomach level with the one at his chest, keeping him suspended at armslength from the dark elf.

He undid the clasps of his robe with the other hand, let them fall to the floor. There was a blemish on his neck where Caleb had marked him, but he was otherwise as delicate and elegant as any noble raised under glass. What scars he had gained while fighting had been healed magically, but Caleb still remembered the place where the poisoned arrow had struck him, nearly piercing his lung. He covered it with his hand. He hated how easily he could have lost him. He hated how fragile this happiness was.

"Then show me... how you want me." Essek whispered in a low voice. Caleb watched Essek's lips, and the flash of teeth, wantonly. His heart was beating faster than it should. He hated Essek's hand on his stomach, his mocking smile, his condescending tone, and most of all the way he remained so close, yet somehow just out of reach, leaving him suspended like Tantalus between bliss and misery.

Part of him wanted to stop now, while he still could... but he could also feel Essek's breath, warm against his open mouth, _felt it_ hitch. He raised a hand to caress his jaw, tentatively, before closing the distance between them with another kiss. The warmth spread through him like a wildfire, and its force was kinetic. Essek chased his lips, when he drew away to catch his breath, insatiable. He threaded a hand through long red hair, like threads of silk on a loom, tethered him close. Caleb wrapped his arms around his slender waist, drew him in. It was all he ever wanted, to hold him in his arms, to feel his hand run through his hair, and up his spine, to draw a low growl from his lips which was _his, all his._

"Essek, there was something I wanted to tell you the other night..."

He wove his arms around Caleb's neck, dragging him down into another kiss, more aggressive than the last.

"Caleb, please... I'm tired of talking. _Show me."_

There were so many things Caleb had been dying to say. But he held his tongue, because Essek asked him to. He soon found the words he was so used to leaning on in the past had only held him back. This was better. A more sincere form of communication. It didn't matter what their motivations were: it was impossible to ignore the attraction they both felt powerless to resist. Essek pushed him down onto a divan with the lightest shove. Or maybe it was magic. Caleb could not help remembering the way he'd handled those guards in the tower without even touching them. Could not help but wonder what else Essek's magic could do, while his hands were otherwise engaged.

Caleb peppered kisses across his ear, which Essek flicked down and away, earrings jangling. Essek turned him over. Caleb let his hands, and voice, guide him. When Essek asked questions, he would nod or shake his head, but otherwise, he kept silent, even when it was hard to keep silent, even when Essek moaned into every kiss, and felt so good, so warm, so pliant, pressed close against him, that he wanted to shower him with praise. How kind he was, how merciful, how handsome. How much he loved his hands, his voice, his body. If he did gasp too loudly, or moan, Essek would silence him with a kiss, devouring each syllable, stealing his breath away.

They ended up entangled, happy, warm, in Essek's bed. "You'll have to let me go eventually. I need to get back to my room," Caleb insisted, but Essek only tightened his hold on Caleb, burying his face in his chest, clinging to him like moss.

"No, don't want to," Essek mumbled defiantly, still half-asleep. Caleb gently ran a hand through his hair, liked the way his short hair felt underhand. "You're so nice and warm."

Caleb leaned, as well as he could, to press a kiss against Essek's forehead, close to the hairline, before lying back down. Essek went: _"hmph!"_ in an approving way, and laced a hand with his before drifting back to sleep, or into a trance. The sound of his breathing, gentle, rhythmic, steady... helped Caleb follow suit.

If he were not already in love with Essek, he would have questioned his willingness to put up with so much madness just to steal a few hours alone with him. Betraying his homeland. Defying his masters. Killing one of them in self-defense. Memories had started to pour through, ever since he had tapped into the Beacon's power. They had been cloudy at first, but were fast becoming clearer.

Caleb knew, logically, he should leave now, before the rest of his Den woke... but Essek was smiling in his sleep, and wrapped so expertly around Caleb there was no way he could possibly extricate himself without waking him. A subtle, devious ploy he must have learned from Frumpkin. But Caleb didn't mind, really. Nothing in the world could compel him to leave, now. It already felt as if they'd walked through fire to get here, to restore the Beacons and prevent a war. They deseved a respite.


End file.
